Angel
Could there be angels waiting in the wings,
How might we call upon their ecstasy?
Rainbows are mere garnish on the days
In which we are the glory and the light.
So may we hear the songs our sunshine sings,
The words which will the wonder of our ways;
May we know how good it is to be
As we celebrate the holidays,
So much in love we weep as angels might
Given angel's wings, where might you fly?
In what sweet heaven might you find your love?
Unwilling to be bound, where might you move,
Lost between the wonder and the why?
If you were but a flame of pure desire,
A light so lovely you could not be seen,
Near mad with yearning, yet somehow serene,
And that were all, what more might you require?
Grateful angels sing at Heaven's gates
In choirs, well, perhaps five trillion strong,
Unleashing love insatiable in song,
Love unknown to those of other fates.
In us, so far removed from such high states,
Alien even to where we belong,
Neither here nor there for very long,
A love like that retreats, and doubts, and waits.
