there's a pain that echoes
the kind that gets reiterated every time
the fallen angel traces where his wings used to be
what was beauty incarnate is now
an abhorrent malignant stump

he still finds traces of memories he had
of the allfather in places of worship
when he closes his eyes he swears
like he was back Home
basking in his Presence
a certain warmth passes through him
enlightenment that every single
thing he's done lead him to this moment
and he's exactly where he was meant to be

but then his eyes open

and the feeling of warmth subsides
replaced by the howling silence
the gaping god shaped hole inside him
opens up and swallows him whole

caressing a nearby marble figure
"if only we were as perfect
as you painted us out to be"
he murmurs under his breath
as he steps back outside
the hell he calls life