the angel of death was dying,
he sent me one last inspiration.
He left me with the burden of his truth.
An angel that knew nothing of man's
youth except its long lost fortitude.
A creature of the air that hardly
touched the ground before its task
was through. In entered me and
sold me on the proof of human endings.
As tenderly, the negatives poured in.
taught me that those awful feelings
never were a sin. And it allowed me
all the grief I had withheld. Even for
the loss of all the littlest of things.
Explaining the depression that
the loss of feelings brings.
In a dark-lit flight of painful grace.
Rolled under sheets of a tattered old lace.
White, the threads that painted over
endless tapestries of life grown faint.
But even white could never cover over
all the strife and pain that living brings.
the Angel of Death showed me signs
that toomany of the seals had been broken.
He'd watched the ancient pacts disintegrate.
Man tried too hard to please a god
that never learned of love.
He showed me tracts of arid land.
Then moved me to deep valleys where
the rivers ran, composed of only tears.
flew me to the nether-lands, where
great imagination produced fear.
The factories were overflowing.
Bordering the souls with glowing red.
He touched me with a hint of the
uncounted suffering that led us there.
He stole a glance of heights attained
by those who lived within the rain.
I noticed how the clouds kept clinging there.
traveling a little further yet before he left,
the vision of a golden throne was blasted
by the engines of a jet.
And there he left me stranded as he faded into mist.
Still seeking more.
He'd warned me that those golden shores
were only full of time that slipped away.
I knew he hadn't lied within his death.
'Twas then it came alive within his eyes.
He wasn't really giving up at all.
It was much more like breaking through.
To mysteries held within the sun's refraction.
Of itself alive within the morning dew.
As heaven looked to earth to pay its dues.
Another angel laying down the truth.
Within the words held secret in our hearts.
parting stroke. The dance was over now.
He left this realm endowed with all the meaning
he'd spent lifetimes searching for.
Contained in every particle of love
he'd gained and lent
through endless dying days...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .