Lord o Lord. Abba, father, daddy... dear heart, true love, deepest lover... my rising wind, my beloved deeply treasured lifemate/companion, ruler of all, beauty beyond beauty. how pale my wings, lined with even the purest and finest of gold that i would lift one in honor and praise to you. oh how lowly a creature am I!

but..


these wings... you made them... you crafted them, you created them, you nurtured them, you cared for them... when they were underdeveloped and needed nurturing, when they were crooked and wayward... when they were broken, crippled, and crushed, you repaired restored and renewed them... many resources, much love, much attention, much care, much consideration, much prompting, much preening much preparation much patience many prayers.... these wings of yours... glowing golden and warm like the sun as they lay spread toward the east and to the west. lined with a vast and impossibly intricate array of golden feathers, each intricately, meticulously, delicately, detailidly, carefully, and creatively coated and colored with the finest of gold, laid and layered in a dazzling portrayal of the might power and mastery of their creator, strikingly arrayed such that each feather fully retains its atmospheric buoyancy. regardless of the lack of pressure hampering each feather, the collective mass of the precious material spread over such a vast canvas creates a considerable burden for the shoulder blades muscles and tendons they are attached to. cell for cell, organ for organ, the organism with whom it was entrusted must be of tremendous power and grace not only to lift such a masterpiece yet care for it delicately to preserve it in its delicate state. conclusion: there is no possible way for anything to become airborne with such wings under its own strength -- the muscle mass required to lift both wings and beat them powerfully enough to generate enough downward thrust to elevate the wings alone airborne would be such that an entirely extra set of wings would be needed to carry the muscles alone. But these wings were made to fly! These wings were made to soar! These wings were ment to be airborne! to climb high in the sky! to fly! I surmise, the only method to raise such a thing as these things, these wings, would be under the power and mighty hand of their creator... the ironically beautifully perfect flaw of the creation is its desperate and tire dependency on its creator for form, for function, for life, for living!

O Lord! My God! Thewse wings of mine, this gift of your creation and creativity made for your good pleasur and enjoyment, this load I bare, this burden I carry, do not lift it from me, do not sever its bones from my skeleton. For this is a part of me, crafted into the core of my being ever since birth, as you knit me together in my mother's womb! I come before you, my master, my creator, my lord, my God, my father, my brother, my friend.... i come before you to ask... i submit to you my request... i present to you my plea! that thy blood was shed for me! for I wallow in dirt, i mingle in filth, I have tarnished your masterpiece, your magnum opus. I ask for forgiveness, I ask for redemption, I ask for restoration, I ask for renewal, I ask you, you of all people, you above all people, you over all creation, yes you I ask -- for help.