Cinders from the sun,
Burn me with heaven’s grace.
I’ve flown too far beyond the sky;
Even the stars anger at my arrogance.
It’s forever cold where I’ve come to rest,
Cold enough that I’d gladly meet my end by fire.
These wings I’ve crafted from the waning warmth of lone candles—
They cry tears of wax.
Tears of joy.
As I fly towards the light.