In hallowed halls an angel sings of sin, redemption and something lost.

Sand and salt. All things fade, and fill. A tide awash with feelings. All the empty cries of humanity collect in sea shells. Hold one up; there is a sigh, released. The waves move. The wind plays and things are torn asunder as if truly flying, just once. Just once to spread wings and fly.
A cliff edge.
An empty cry.
A call devoid of joy; a noise that seeps into bones and settles there. A ghostly touch down skin and some may shiver; one may even smile. Tears always fall, forming salt into waves. A speck of dust is lifted from the shore and floats.

Something lost returns to those who wait for it.

The wind softens its blows, and the water is gentle. The tide draws at the earth. There are no words, no memories to be told anew. What once were tears sting, as if the sadness they came from still lingers. There is an ache deep within and it makes the world sway. The sand shows footprints where none walk.

An angel sings of something lost.

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