Weeps of the First Born.

Weeps of the First Born.

Writing by Sol Jetter, Design by Sol Jetter


Great wings cut the sky 

bleeding the horizon at sunset, 

so he would not be alone in his blood-let. 

Garnet streaks the clouds in his path, 

scathed shoulders fading to a rosy mist. 

Divine creature soars in the sky. 

But soar is a lie. 

He’s plummeting with a flawless flight, 

painting sky the colors of day we see before the curtain of night. In the hours of dusk, he lets out a cry, 

a sound only wounded beasts and the grieving could try… and procure. 

His darling; His son; His Angel no more.

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