I sat down with the intention of writing a short story, and instead I ended up with this:

With meadows of light and dead stars in her eyes
She clawed at the night and fell into the sky
Too young to be wise and with decades unspent
In the streets of the city her cry of repent
The fallen are many when god charms the young
A weaving of wonder, and sanity spurned
Too steady the nerve of those worst placed to lead
A faith-scythe drops blood into furrows of seed
Send forth your young into clouds of crossed-poison
Their crossroads a dirt track, their avenue chosen
Perfection fights nature with Man incidental
Brings shame at a failure with hope detrimental
She’d sink to the ground when cowed by His gaze
But don’t expect help from mysterious ways
Seabound she tumbled, then a speck in the swell
Her last breath a tonic to send her to hell
Controllers would preach of the state of humanity
But in souls of pure passion a spark of depravity
Fight a river of sin! the holy words teach
But by a hand of a carer the embankment is breached
For bridges have watchers and all-seeing lenses
Created by science, they man the defenses
The waves part through physics and fighting the current
Man lunges and snatches the lost from the torrent
A whisper of logic, the scent of the sure
Can bring down the towers and flush out the sewer
What faith-based morality sent into despair
Rose from the deep with the truth in her stare