dust of seemed swallow secured on grey slate
risen dessication its fate
forever entranced, disabled by time
flightless now ever in state
dust of arced angel arrested alone
ached by stillness in stone
nary the one nor other may move
struck in time, brief and long gone
impressions imprinted, immobilised
impossible gifts to new eyes
cast by creation then clefted to wait
separated from life ‘mid soft sighs
Navigated clouds, we did,
Packed for journey’s end,
Gondolier’d beams’ passages
Through gate of soul’s best friend.
Rode on waves of denser mass,
Cast shadows far below,
Soared to heights of ecstasy,
Paid dues for Peter’s show.
Lived the light, drank in its worth,
Streamed it through the night,
Believed in dawn, its heraldry,
Basked in glory bright.
Travelled far in torpor’s wake,
Languid in our bliss,
Transcended life in heaven’s arms,
Partook of its warm kiss.
Image courtesy of sattva / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Sexless, these angels
Guiding we spirits,
Steering a course,
If but asked.
This, their god-given task.
A guide to the left, to the right
Or straight on,
To see them in splendour.
Their bugles blast,
Restore to sender.