The Goddess

Here she stands, on top of the world. Oh, how she's fallen! Or, didn't you know? She's a bird without wings, bound from the sky. Exalted for once, bitter for ever.

But then she twirls, begins to dance. Every eye is fixed on her, no spotlight needed. And in that song, she'll be okay, she'll fly again. But when the music stutters, stops, once more is she forgotten, the word stamped across her forehead.

Yet she survives, carries on, draped in the shadows of who and what she used to be. And all those that used to follow her titter and laugh, pleased that she stands no taller than they themselves. 'Great mercy' is a mute plea if it should ever pass beyond the gatekeeper of her lips, for if 'compassion' is an alien term, 'altruism' is truly nonsense.

She grows smaller and smaller, dreams of her glory days forcing her to shrink. When she looks to the future, all she can see is all the ways it'll never be her past. But if that song should only return, she'd strain back toward the sun, resplendent in her power. Yes, she was once the ultimate, above the world in her sinuous twines of flight. Angels held no spark to her sacred glory. But never ever again will she dance, for the DJ that knew the mix abandoned his pulpit in Hell, seeking exaltion of his own, leaving her to fall forever.