Tattered Wings

A soul sits alone with broken wings, torn apart, in pieces because it fell, unable to keep itself aloft due to the actions of another, a flying companion.
Time passes, the wings heal, yet still, the soul rests alone, afraid to fly, to risk itself to peril by once again soaring among the skies with others, afraid to be hurt again, afraid of falling.
Old companions swoop lower, calling, pleading for their friend to spread it’s wings again, accompanying them are those who wish to know that soul, wish to fly with them.
Their calls touch the heart, which agonizes over the choice. Perch here, alone, yet safe, or sail, among the clouds, reaching new heights, but risking new pain. The heart decides, the wings spread slowly, out of practice with this once familiar action, and finally, the soul takes flight.
Accompanied by old companions and new friends, the start is slow, fear of failure causing hesitation. But then the wind under the wings lifts, and together, they fly, soaring higher then ever thought possible, up among the clouds, and on into the night among the stars.
The flight, every bit worth the risk of falling, because even torn and tattered wings can once again take flight.

Source: Just something I wrote one day in my notebook for Creative Writing