Heaven and Earth
Men's veins aren't built to last,
Blood runs cold and thick and fast,
But isn't that sweet?
That the beats that measure are so short lived,
That we all have so little yet so much to give.
I think its sweet.
An Angel's wing plucked and defeathered,
Tossed aside like it was worn and weathered.
Isn't that sad?
An Angel without her Halo sits lost and alone,
She does not know this world we call our own.
I think that's sad.
Both cast out, turned away and scorned,
We each have a world of our own to mourn.
But isn't it grand?
Two different people from two different lands,
Can whisk by each other hand to hand,
To generate Heaven and Earth.
I think its grand.
View User's Journal
Stories, Poems, Events, and Feelings.
Angel Without Her Halo
Community Member |