~ White Flowers
~ Composed by : Aeryllin

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I ignore the frustration, the pain, and try
To find myself again, standing on this frozen peak
Deep in the Vashnars, clouds heavy in the sky
Snowflakes swirling, a whirlwind of pale, white flowers

The wind scours through me, caressing skin with frigid claws
Its voice whispering, whistling a quiet requiem in my ear
Rifling through tattered feathers, and breathless, I pause
But the wind cruelly passes on, the moment gone

My heart cries out in protest, breaking anew
For the skies that were taken from my reach
I stood on high, felt the wind, but still I knew
This wound would never, could never be healed

The fight had been vicious, bloody and long
All of Cyrene gathered to fight off the raiders
I proudly stood with them against the enemy throng
To give my life if needed in order to protect

As it happened, I did not fall that day
All was going well, the enemy tide was turned
We noticed too late as the dragon rose, entered the fray
All the world erupting in pain as jaws closed around me

The dragon was slain, but I lay broken and bleeding
My body twisted and torn, my wings horribly shattered
I felt my lifeblood flow around me, consciousness receding
Nothing but blackness to catch me as I fell

When I awoke, I lay amazed and awed
I hadn't been sent to walk Maya's Hall after all
But it was with horror I learned my healing was flawed
My shattered wings beyond redemption

What is an Atavian that cannot fly?
The world loses its color, drenched in grounded pain
To never again taste the wind, embrace the sky
Forever bound, restrained, a noose tight around the heart

On this mountaintop, looking out, I can almost feel
Almost believe I can soar again, fly
I start to move slowly, then faster, in a trance, unreal
And exultation floods me as I dive into space

The wind fills my ears in a familiar rush, I smile
My wings trailing behind me like tattered sails
Ice starting to cling as I spin, all the while
Reveling in the glory of my last flight

I know a profound sense of silence, of peace
Spiraling down amidst the swirl of snow
I am made whole again as I take the sky, release
And dreams draped in white flowers come true

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Mayan, in the year 606 AF.