There Were Angels There

In all our works of art, through all of time
Everywhere this great world of ours upon
We find signs of a Mystery sublime
Well worth our present meditation on

We find it in the painted records left
Of all the revelations ever known
No matter the God-warp or Goddess-weft
To which each teaching afterward hath grown

We see it in the frescoes, murals, in
The statuary, each illumined book
Every one to the others close akin
We find it, simply, everywhere we look

No matter when it was, no matter where
Without exception, there were angels there



Ana Daksina View All →

A poet is the strangest sort of soul
You in this life may e'er expect to meet
More broken even while more truly whole,
Innocently intending well, more sweet

Than any but a five year old should be
Unfit to meet a callused world's demand
Or to behave aught expediently
All grace in flight; an albatross on land

Do not the all too common error make
Do not fall into the too easy trap
Avoid the fatal egoic mistake
Imagining that poet be a sap

Powerful spirits classic and antique
Give voice when poets ope their mouths to speak

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