On Wings of Bronze

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Doctrines boast of ancient creatures that abode with Deity - beings far more subtle than naïve 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.