Tattered Wing Angels

I remember
Now.
There was
In the interim
Of the becoming
That hellish void.

To unfold
Is to become.
To become
Is to return.
And I remember
Now.

The remembering
Unfolds
In delicate crevices
Meaning imbued spaces
Above and below
Between and outside
We strive in diligence
Glide,
Perhaps.

Tattered wing angels
We glide,
Perhaps.

Beyond measure,
This remembrance
Tattered wing angels.
We are
Beautiful
Yet scarred.
Seared with pain
Yet,
Soothed with the salve
Of the unmanifested
Bliss
Beyond
Sound.

Tattered wing angels
We are
Beautiful.
I remember
Now.