On Wings of Bronze

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Doctrines boast of ancient creatures that abode with Deity - beings far more subtle than naive humanity might even begin to comprehend. Entities far older still: that might well have been in attendance when the Firmament parted and Earth came to be - beasts that may well have ever stared knowingly into the abyss: ere mankind grasped its own mortality or pondered implications of the grave. Ghastly brutes: already ancient before timid humanity ever thought to rise up across the desecrated land - eternal sentinels of the Celestial that may just as easily divine the incomprehensible as deduce the inexplicable. Beyond the ken of humanity: they recognize and disregard the nameless horrors from forgotten pantheons of which all men and women still dare not speak. Mankind’s prayers might well have been answered eons ago: what with humanity never being perceptive enough to ever notice. Taking to our knees each night to beg for wisdom; when, unbeknownst to all, Wisdom eventually grew tired of waiting for humanity and simply chose to abandon us. Alone … to forever wonder if we ever truly were the lords of our own creation. Oblivious, we paint ghoulish images with our pens: imprisoning the finest and frailest of human character within the confines of feeble words where each is exaltedly whisked to Eternity upon the brazen Wings of Lions.