My Angel With Her Broken Wing

My Angel With Her Broken Wing
© Surazeus
2018 04 25

The day Ludovicus is crowned the king
I find my angel with her broken wing
tangled in the sizzling telephone wires
so I extract her from blackberry briars
and carry her limp to the castle tower
where I zap her soul with electric power.

I name her Lutetia because her skin
glows white as snow in the gold winter sun
that reveals the way from Cirrea to Delphi
where I sit in her cave and ask myself why
the spirit to sing howls inside my heart
which helps me complete my world history chart.

My father Phoebus taught me how to spell
incantations that prophesy how well
women teach children the meaning of life
to tend fruit trees and avoid greedy strife,
so I build garden walls on Mount Parnassus
and carve statues of angels wearing glasses.

I compose weird melody that reveals
heart-breaking angst to the court of appeals
but the blind judge burns my book of lost dreams
so Lutetia shows me sun flash on streams
which sparks my spirit to transcend despair
when I sing true love at Scarborough Fair.

Back home at the House of the Rising Sun
Lutetia wears mask of the pious nun
then stands in the Tower of Rapunzel nude
to sing with ravens while I slouch and brood
and ponder why some can generate new life
because I want to crown the queen my wife.

She tells me she knows why the caged bird sings
but when I try to fly on angel wings
I fall from Heaven to walk the hard Earth
and calculate with verse the sacred worth
which glows in every atom of my soul
so I sing in tune with the Great White Whole.