Disclaimer: I don’t own Sanzo. Although I hope I have done him justice.
Angel
~”~”~”~”~”
An
angel sits, he watches.
An indulgence this,
Seeking answers in the rain
Soaking in remembrance.
Like a hail of bullets.
And smoke curls lazily up, away and disperses.
Unlike the ghosts that shadow his past. In silhouette from the glow of dying embers;
The fine line of his back,
Knees half pulled up
Towards a chin, finely chiseled. He seems to shrink
In, into himself and away from Him.
Away from Them.
And shivers - is it from cold? And how cold — the mighty sun
And its blinding light
Can be?
But not for Him. He who is unafraid
Unflinching
Daring to touch
And risking the burn From cold white heat
From hot molten gold
He will brave it always
Five hundred years of wait, notwithstanding. But the fear, the fear
Of wanting, of needing;
It petrifies
His very soul - his core. Because somewhere inside
There is a memory
Of light drenched hallways
And flowers in a glass Of bright gold eyes in a smile
And trust so pure
Then as now.
And the angel wishes hard for strength. For fortitude in his spirit
An anchor for his resolve
So he folds up his humanity
Tucks it in between that space of skin and leather. It won’t be lost
It’ll be kept warm
It’ll be protected
By that hard armour. Of vitric amethyst
Set in gold
And cold alabaster
Of thin lipped austerity. But armour is never.
Is not complete;
Without its chinks
Its weakness in its links. In a paradox the links
Lend strength with which to bend
And holes with which to breath
And holes so that the eyes of the heart may see. For an angel is never
Without mercy
Even as he deals death
Even as he reaches for life. For an angel is never
Without strength
In unyielding purpose
Of will and choices made. Because still lying
Tucked between
Leather and skin
Lies humanity.
~"~"~"~"~"~"~"~"~"~"~"~
owari