Broken Wings

I see a man with broken wings.
To fly again is uncertain.
The air on high is of what he sings.
The sky was his to acertain.

The tales he tells, the times thus past.
To see the shambles off his state.
The clouds were his; within his grasp.
Set so far in daemon's wake.

The fire doth singed black purest white,
His wings with agony were charred with scorn.
A thing of beauty turned to plight.
Took by flame, fang and horn.

I see a man with broken wings.
I hear the stories of his pain.
To this man's soul, hope shall I bring.
I swear this man shall fly again.