I wrote a short from an inspiration. What was I inspired by? Nature of course! It happened a couple of days ago when I saw three crows fly above me. And as they fly passed me, the tips of their wings were white from the early morning sunlight. I though that was rather cool, so I stored it away in my head. Occasionally I would roll the image around and try to think up a story, but I haven't been able to until now. So without further ado let me introduce to you to it...
In the sunlight everything is pure.
Even the crows are turned into doves.
Their wing tips turns white,
As they fly in the sunlight.
Their sins are lifted the higher they fly,
Picking out their blackness imbedded deep in their feathers.
Leaving them astonishingly white to the eye.
Their slates clean and sparkling.
They keep on flying higher and higher,
Even though their feathers white,
Their hearts are black as they keep ascending.
Closer and closer, the heat intensify.
Higher and higher, the air thins.
The sun flare out its flames.
Engulfing the greedy birds.
Feathers ashen black,
They flutter back down to Earth.
They hit the land, limp and broken.
Back to their original form.
I'm not really sure if the title is good, but meh I'm too tired to think.
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