This here piece is dedicated to the living the dead on this day, 2nd November, 2018, to mark this Feast of All Souls.
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And so we fall.
It can be argued that life is a Fall.
Innocent Angels, we once were,
Bright of eyes, cherubs at heart,
The sound of hossana on our tongues.
We, once Angels fell to earth.
To this dismal city of sinners,
To this miserable plane of existence.
We left our glorious wings on high,
To walk with men,
Dance with devils.
To prove beyond all measure of reason,
Our pure and humble souls to our Maker.
He bade us fall, so we fell.
Rid of wings, we crashed head first.
Lead for tongues, we bewailed our losses.
How do winged ones learn to walk,
Hugging the dust when once they flew?
How to unlearn the tongue of heaven,
And learn the coarseness born of Babel?
So we waggled and we stumbled,
And then we babbled until we learned to speak their foreign tongues.
The farther we fell away from our wings,
The more we learned to walk like men,
Talk like them,
We became the things we deigned to serve.
But fall we did, far from light,
Into the darkness of man’s dark Dreams.
We fell so far that we forgot the times,
When we drifted with the clouds,
Borne on wings of gold and light.
We forgot the days where we sang to our Maker,
Making Him smile and pleasing His heart.
We fell too far to recall the truth,
We became sin in every way.
Bound by the earth and the weight of it’s pull,
Bound by the laws that governed the living.
We find an-other, fallen as we,
Bound together in the mingling of fluids,
We call forth an angel,
drag it from glory.
We teach it to walk as we have walked ,
Until it talks as we now do.
The farther we fall,
The older we feel.
Soon our seeds will drag down their angels.
Our clan of fallen fills the globe.
And still we fall,
From grace and glory and into the darkness that death doth deal.
It can be argued that life is a Fall,
So do we argue that death is a Fall.
Out of the gathering the fallen we are bound to,
Out of the boundaries of life and the living.
We fall off Earth’s cliff and into the abyss.
There we pay, like all men must,
We fast and we pray but cannot evade.
The heavy toll of death’s dear debt,
Paid in full in a dead man’s chest.
Let the living laugh and make merry,
The falling fallen keep on falling.
I heard a man once reached the depths
I heard he paid, in full, his debt.
He’s a Noah’s son, I also heard.
As we all do fall in life,
I argue too that we fall in death.
Drifting weightless, wingless, soundless,
In the blissful nothingness at world’s ending.
When the final tick is tocked,
In the rusty clock.
And time is up,
for one and all,
the curtain calls
and so we fall.
Rafael Kane ®2018