The Blind Angel


With an infinite wingspan of fate He sojourns the roadways of providence searching for the objective He knows His Creator has designed for Him to obtain. Never knowing the exact moment of His descent He lingers in the hourglass of grey scale flight. Awaiting!
As wisdom builds within His fortified soul His discernment of His hour beckons to the innate knowing of fate. As a weary wing lingers in a corridor of darkness, struggling for freedom, as danger lures and lurks to draw Him from His appointed moment He spends His timing, awaiting.
He reckons with thoughts of failure and brokenness as His armor thickens and He grows in power and understanding. Realizing an eternal moment is soon to be His He flies helplessly in any effort to contend with time, with His Maker. As the cocoon of aimless adventure peels away His youthfulness and wraps His wings with arrows of gold, fire, and power, He finds Himself awaiting.
With a war-ravaged mind of eternal combat the intravenous spirit of conflict feeds His spirit with bitterness and anger, yet growing. Seeing and understanding the darkness He stands in corridors of destiny, hurting and torn. He knows, beyond all else there lies within Him a depth of unfinished business. Struggling within, He awaits.
Never fully grasping, never completely knowing, He is driven. The blindness that fate dealt to Him has brought brokenness beyond measure. He knows only that soon, in a single day He will descent upon the darkness with infinite force of revelation and change. For good, for purpose, for mankind, He awaits.
Soon dear world, soon. Enjoy until He arrives, while the Blind Angel is content to await… HE IS COMING !!