# 4 Poem by B. Sven Telander

Do I forever recall those ancient of times,
where newborn eyes watched creation sing,
and my own wings helped ring primordial chimes,
earning the brief privilege at ear of the King;
is it true that the cause of my angelic demise,
was hubris or some unspeakable evil I unlet;
or did a dare to allow my star to attempt to rise
above the Architect’s splendor cause long sunset;
or would I not bow when the Supreme was addressing
that mortals were now surpassing angel bearing sword;
or did I follow my Maker’s command on mission with blessing
knowing my fate as scapegoat and expecting no reward;
or was my leaving a search for newer purer communion,
drunk somewhere on wanderlust in pristine vast dominion?