The Angel

The Angel

There is an angel outside my window

Standing amongst the trees

Standing amongst the remains of the giants

Always looking to the gates

Standing, watching, in silence he waits

Watching the entries, the exits

The comings and goings

His head lifted slightly toward the sunsets

 

He reminds me often that my life is up to me

Yet there remains a guardian

Not a guardian to keep fear and pain away

No, a guardian to allow fear and pain to play

In the midst of my noisy din,

In the midst of my normal day,

Along the paths of chosen friends,

I find I live in the presence of my enemies

While drinking the choicest of wines

Breathing the breaths that are most sublime

All the while my guardian keeps watch by the windows

What he knows no one knows

What he’s seen, what he’s heard

The gusts of the wind, the songs of the birds

The cries of my heart, the darkness of my eyes

The stillness of my soul that has been mesmerized

By the things he can see and hear every moment

But there are no moments in eternity’s scenes

Space without time, movement within rhyme

And without

I swallow pride, I swallow doubt

Nodding slightly to my silent guardian

Who still has head lifted toward the sunsets

 

Who can I be?

Who is this that is me?

He sits there quietly

The gusting spring winds scattering flowers abroad

So that it appears the snow has fallen once again

A snow of pinks and purples and whites and yellows

Stories of newborn sullen fellows

Whose lives were a scattered glance

Yet in all their beauty, all their romance

The yearning lingers on

A light, a stroke, a sing, a song

The angel still keeps his watching, long

As the seas still swirling

The shoots unfurling

This life is just a whisper away

 

the-angel

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