A fallen angel always evokes melancholy in a sheer scale. However glorious was the past, however fragile and broken is the present, there’s always the higher power, the macula, dictating the eternal watch. The undying surveillance.
Relentless and indifferent, the watch is upon everyone. Be it almighty or ordinary, everything succumbs under the incessant and overpowering watch. It’s not about a specific strand of lugubriousness—it’s about being nowhere to hide, even upon the knock of death, of being submerged in the eternal loop of confinement and shackle for all sublunary matters.