But wings we have not,
and so we flounder, fighting,
in vain to improve our sorry lot
in this existence filled with dying
that makes all a race against time
through growth and knowledge, only to find
that we've come to circle that which we had
and not lost that which we wished to leave behind.

So we that know, that see this plight
of ours and others, future and present worries,
will be the guides of tomorrow, come what might,
shall gather the lost and fallen, the flurries
that, whipped by the wind, beg for our mercies
and take shelter under our strength, innate courage.

The Bard, his words wrought in ivory,
shall see them through the storm and sleet.
The Phoenix, her eternal flames ablaze,
will thaw them from fear with her fiery heat.
The Blessed, his voice a divine message,
shalt keep them in hope, far from despair.
The Artist, her talent boundless and smile bright,
shall ease their pain with her grace so fair.
The Knight, nobled and gentled by war,
will lead them away to lands afar.
The Scientist, perception's keen conduit,
will deliver them from society's draining grip.
And Evirae, Angel of them all, shall ensure
that they will not fail, watch over their steps
so that they stumble not, and she shall endure
their pain as well as hers; it is her future, willingly,
to keep eye over the others, grant them her lips
in defense against those who would harm them--
in dire times, her minions' fists.

And lo, they shall make the darkness light,
warm the lives of those shrouded in night
who oft' appreciate not that which these few
guard and heal in them, and yet they do
surrender not in the harsh face of their fates--
forever wilt they toil when others despair.

But still! that we had wings!
They would let us see ourselves
and that our troubles, like those of kings,
are conquerable on all levels to which we delve
and not ruling over us as the malicious does torment--
Oh, that we had wings, what kind of wonderful would be,
what gain of love, freedom from the influence of misery.

- Cera Evirae