The Arc

Whoosh.

The feeling of air blast out from my ears,
The feeling of senseless illusions, tied to the masculinities of death,
The feeling of flesh and bones, once whole, now weightless,
The realization of the fact that I may die,
Simply irrefutable,

Before the War, I often dreamed about the expanse of the universe,
The 14 planets that aligned to make our solar system seemed simply too small,
For one such as myself,
With meticulations, and dissertations, and reasonings,
The waking visions of seeing worlds where fantasy and reality collided seemed inescapably driven,
And the truth that many of these worlds no longer existed,
Only made me want to see them more...

Whoosh.
Crack.
Aah!!!!!

I scream into the sky as I descend from the clouds,
My wings have broken,
I have mistakenly used them as a brace against rubble falling as I am,
Falling from above, down below,
Rubble from the High Citadel, from where I was catapulted,
Where the War that Came Before, had broken down my home,
And claimed it for its own...

Another explosion richocets above, as buildings, towers, bridges, and other edifices,
Are torn asunder,
Are ripped apart,
Are burned, and bombed, and bombarded by cannon fire,
And lasers from orbiting stations, further incinerate the country,
As whole lives are destroyed,
As whole wholes, are halved,
As real realities, are unreal,
As my world, my home, my city, my country,
Was destroyed,

And all for a choice...
A choice...
Choice...

And as i descended, and flew into the earth,
That choice began to define my existence,
A choice my people made to protect the world we shared,
A choice my people burned into their hearts,
A choice that now became my mantle,
A choice...
A choice...

Here I am,
Falling to my death,
Plummeting 70,000 miles in the sky down to the surface,
My wings, scarred and one broken,
And yet I’m worrying a choice...

My... for now entering the War that came Before...
I really do know how to make an exit....