Wayward, they called you.
You wore your defiance like armor.
Even Father’s sword of omnipotence could not break it.
Cast out, you fell.
Descending with a despairing ache like the screaming wind,
the surge of power as fickle as an ocean’s wave
the disobedience engulfing you like a sand storm.
But the stardust will drip as heavily as blood
and stain your delicate fingers.
And it will indurate your regrets like magma.
The nervousness that once stretched out like
an endless forest will
with your divine energy.
A star has died for you,
splattered you with its anguish
and saturated you with its fire.
And its ashes will power your kingdom
the anguish will fuel your success
the fire can only rebuild you.