A tattered soul too bruised to fly?
On razor thin wings, a chance to glide.
Translucent, fragile, barely there;
gather courage to ride the air.
Slimmest hope, improbable beating;
gravity defied, dreams repeating.
Color and pattern catch the sun;
Flying faster than the devil can run.
With a touch of madness and blessing of angels;
The dead arise, impossibility strangles.
White as snow, washed of sin;
The torn can soar again and again.
~ RhS ~