The Other Wings of Anger.

It can never be too late to get up and write of all the things that hum and echo from the parts that I try so hard to lie about...

But it sometimes sets me to anger, and my wings grow heavier than before and I can’t soar an inch higher.

Of how the lies went past my listening ear, how the temptations overran every single barrier and barricade set against it. The weight of this truth weighs more than I can bear.

But I am blessed and cursed with the strongest of wings, the winds bow down and whisper of my very majestic nature.

Of how it never occurred to me that I was sailing over the darkest yonder, that the winds never blew against my sails, that I was the one huffing and puffing to blow my lungs against the sails, to at least scream past the veils.

But here I am, flying across everything else with the ease of a gliding swallow. Here I am, riding on the back of my beggar’s wishing horse.

Now watch me soar even more than higher. Watch me soar past that which you name limit, watch me get tested and watch me burn down your tests.

With these wings made from the flames of the greatest fire, carved from the oldest oakwood and bound with the hardest strings of anger, love and rage never known, past any named limit

And here I am, swinging on the tides of the winds. Fearless of all that I don’t know yet.

~Koome Manyara~

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