An agéd man clomb slowly up the mounting stair
While blackened clouds whipped round the sky like windblown hair.
‘Pon ancient shoulders was a frame that trudged away
Assailed by gusts that tugged and pulled the garment fray’d.
The man climbed slowly, slowly, up the elder stone
Whose staircase mounted up one side of mountain-lone
This granite rock whose hoary head in winter’s sleep
Scowled low and fey around the country long and deep
It cast its shadow round the land it stood upon
A mountain dark with secrets hid – of more anon.
Upon the topmost brow of rock a tower stood
A withered finger pointing up as though it would
Rip down the darkened clouds that often clothed it round
And dared the lightning bolt to strike it on the ground.
Still climbing, ever climbing, up the mountain steps
That circled round the mountain side he walking kept
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A silence blanketed that almost-empty home
A pair of footsteps mounted up the stairs alone
The father who intended to assist his son
To finish up the book-work earlier begun.
The father came and stood outside the bedroom door.
He knocked and called to Kip. No answer. Knocked once more.
He frowned. The door stood open – but he heard no sound.
He entered in. And carefully then looked around.
The window open. Empty desk – but no-one there.
Gazed he silent. Looked around with every care.
Upon the floor a paper-scrap – he read the scrawl.
Kip’s hand? He read – and gasped. One word writ – “AngelFall”.
No longer undecided, fast he crossed the room
To gaze into the night outside. The rising moon
Dispensed a calming light around the resting town
The father stood in reverie. A thoughtful frown
Considered long its fancies. Eyes looked into space
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With flowing hair and fleeting hooves the steed trod fast
The paths of air. Its rippling wings, descending past
The gates of heaven, dark’ning clouds illumined red
Like some volcano, smouldering alive and dread.
The wingéd steed cleaved through the air from whence unknown
To hover near a window-sill which gazed alone
From out the wall of this: some ordinary home.
This milky pearl, this moon-drop beam of snowy white
The pegasus with feathered wings exuding light
Of starshine from the worlds beyond, some outer race
‘Twixt stars and voids and meteors in distant space.
The sounds of chatt’ring pigeons stilled to see him there
Free-floating like a dragonfly upon the air.
He hovered free, his pinions firm. With light command
His rider stands upon his back to come to land
Upon the sill, outside the house, the rider trod
As though he were an apparition sent from God.
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