Angles Guard Us Still

The Wind we hold beneath our fragile Wings
To scale the castellated vapor Dreams:
Clouds' Spirit Form derived of Earthly things.

Our breathed Speech melds with Ancestral breaths;
Thus Souls have ever striven to escape
The bonds of Clay, of strictured thought.

We struggle to fly, yet fear the Gravity of Death.
Such a craven, False Authority,
which dares to gainsay
All Hope, each Belief.

Shall our voices then be so stilled?

No, no, fear not so.
Our Angels are still with us,
Just as they have been before
Our present Earthly Birth.

They are here to
Guide us whilst lost in the Garden;
They attend, to carry us finally,
Safely away.

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