To the Fallen.

You fell hard. 
Knees on the floor. 
Face on the dirt. 
Screaming and wailing and weeping and unable to breathe. 
That day… 
That very day everything stopped. 

How did you feel, like that? 
With your scraped knees, and the light, above, that was drawing your shadow. Like a tree. 
Like a disembodied raven. 
Scarecrow of our pasts. 

There are so many of you. 
A plenty. A thousand. Millions. As much as the stars in the sky.
Each shiny spot for a fallen man. 
Each star for each shard of shattered destiny. 
Each blackened silence of the cosmos for every devoured hopes. 
We are nothing. 
In the grand scheme of things, we're mere dust. Whispers in the telling of the big History. 

… But are we? 
Are we nothing but broken shells? 
Fallen man, you see, I'm just like you. I have been broken, beaten and left bloodied in the gutter. So many times. 
Flying so high, falling so low. 
I'm one of your kind. 

I remember you, I remember your fall. I know how it was for I was there too. Beside you. Falling with you.
Together we fell, together, we were linked. Our bones thrown away in the same river. 
With this deep fear in our memories. 
This promise burnt into our flesh. 

Fallen men rise. 
They do not stay on the ground. Something is pulling them up. Forcing them to get up. 
It's in our mind. We've been shaped like that. 
Seeking for the impossible. 
Searching for life where there's nothing but dried soils under our feet to the horizon. 
Searching and screaming. 
Sometimes we fall… 

Falling men. 
Falling man… 
Falling memory. 

Each step we take, each of them, can make flowers bloom. 
Flower makers. 
Under the solid rain of these new times. 

To the falling men at my side… 
That day was the breaking point. 
It was the end. It was something new. 
That day… 
I should have been there. 

Never could have I helped you back on your feet, but I would never have turned my eyes from you. 
I would have stayed. 

Falling men, 
That drop from the stars like a rain of ashes, of wasted stardust, 
Falling men that walk into our dreams, 
Speakers of the truth, screamers, flower makers, 
You'll 'ever be forgotten. 

How do we live after the Fall? 
How do we live after that day? When we survive, how do we walk again? 

We do. 
Mending our bones. 
Stitching the scars of what once was our wings. 
Growing new ones. 
Bigger. Sturdier. To fly better. 
To never Fall again. 

Memories, memories, ticking by, ticking deep, don't forget me.