Sound of Wings

The urban woods are sombre, dark but not a trace of loveliness do you discern; like battlements and bastions grinning at each other across barren lands wasted by malice and anarchy. There are no promises that beckon - no oaths to be fulfilled…the weariness eats into your bones…but all that awaits you is endless, ceaseless, mindless toil; a veritable ocean; stretching wave after wave, mile after mile; beyond the sight of the keenest eyes.Sleep! Ah, Murphy….Sleep is not your lot, not yet anyway , not by a long way! You strain your eyes far into the madding crowd seeking her, the eldest of the endless, and those disarmingly mischievous eyes….at times you think maybe you see her…you hear in earnest for the sound of wings….but the algesic cacophony of the noisome crowd drowns all sound. The sound of the wings she brings with her, and she comes not for you, yet. The mind gropes the darkness in vain, till at last it hits upon him, the Dreamlord, alone and unaided, in battle before the legions of Lucifer…. “I am hope”…….You smile amidst your toil, the paths have to be travelled ….the wings shall find you yet!“Indeed, what power would hell have if those that dwelt here dreamt not of heaven”