For their grey-stoned words,

And rumor-stained vice,

His evermore wilderness;

Was a mirage of surreal lies,

His azure-soaked hair,

His crystal-carved hands,

His sand-dusted words;

An enigma to the lands

An eccentric being he was,

Weaving fear in their mind,

Even if he meant no harm,

They shunned him like a crime,

His shadow glossed wings,

Adorned forest , gold and white;

His fate-sealed footsteps,

They sought for in the night,

Clothed completely in black,

With masked ember eyes,

He dared to wander the lands,

The sky had cursed with demise,

His truth-stroked touch,

Made them quiver for their lives,

He always though had wondered;

Why they ached for more time?

Drunk with burning fervor,

To once witness a homely smile,

When on an anomalous doorsteps;

He stepped once ; never twice,

Alas for the winged ascian,

Who after a millennia of futile tries,

Never knew the warmth of joy ; for,

He was hailed ; with agony and cries,

A wanderer lost in this world,

In soiled anguish and wind chimes,

I wonder if Azrael desired;

The evanescent taste of mortal life.

.