The Majestic

Trampled feathers lie on the ground
where the wings of the Majestic once spread;
their greater span reaching the tips of the continents
and warming the slightest complaint.

The Majestic, now naked, shivers under the weight
of the ocean breeze whispering over the mountains.
A pitiful figure, once the queen of the skies,
now hunched with a burden of pain.

Silently, silently, her pride is diminished,
as onlookers ogle the previously omnipotent.
A wonder that such as the Majestic should
fall so terribly and so quickly.

Never to soar, or whip past the rooting birds,
the Majestic weeps with shame, filled with
past wishes and endless regret.
A standard for the world, now burnt.

And as the Majestic crumples, she only
wishes she were a Phoenix.