Of Jewels and Archery

So sweep me under the rug.
Eventually everything must shake hands with dust.
And if I may never taste the sunlight in my eyes again,
Remind me why it is the diamond in our sky;
Her warmth and beauty sure does sting me every time.

Archers line the horizon.
Their arrows will soon paint colossal tidal waves
As they admirably carve my name through the satin oceans above.
But with a crest forged of solid steel,
Their wooden spines will surely burden the feathers
On their tails.

If I were to only give them wings,
Would I then have bestowed free will,
And never have them return to whence they were born?
Give an arrow wings, and it may never return to you.
Give man a quiver, and he will always find himself in search of ammunition.

Perhaps if I were to catch one of these exotic
Winged elementals, what then will I do?
Captivity would only demonstrate
The fate in which we all so precariously
Race against;

Her face will discolour and decay.
Her body will weaken and crumble.
And the feathers that once adorned her wings
Will patiently fray and return to the breeze that
Stole her skin.

And so to deny an angel its wings,
We deny the very fiber of its fervor and nobility.
For even ourselves could never be,
Without our glittering jewels in the heavens
That relentlessly scorch our backs.