Heaven had a rebel in the glow of the first light,

Heaven had a rebel in the glow of the first light, Silver wings cutting through the quiet of the night. Brightest of the bright ones, burning like a flare, Whispering to heaven that he wanted more than air. No garden, no serpent, no footsteps in the leaves— Just a crown that felt too heavy For a heart that wouldn’t ease. Heaven had a rebel long before the fall, A voice that hit the ceiling, Said he’d never bow at all. And when the stars were shaking And the sky began to spin, The first sin wasn’t stolen— It was rising from within. He wouldn’t kneel to the new‑made clay, Said fire shouldn’t bow to dust. He carved his name in lightning, Turned obedience into rust. Every angel felt the tremor When he rose against the throne, A melody of defiance Breaking perfect, breaking known. No fruit, no shame, no shadows on the ground— Just a dream of stolen glory And a fall without a sound. Heaven had a rebel long before the fall, A voice that hit the ceiling, Said he’d never bow at all. And when the stars were shaking And the sky began to spin, The first sin wasn’t stolen— It was rising from within. Somewhere far below, A garden waited to begin. Two souls would walk its golden paths Unaware of ancient sin. Every fall in history Starts with one who won’t give in. Heaven had a rebel burning bright as dawn, A song too wild for paradise, A fire that lingered on. And though the world was newborn And Eden still pristine, The first sin cracked the heavens Like a chord that split the scene.