The Angel
There is an angel outside my window
Standing amongst the trees
Standing amongst the remains of the giants
Always looking to the gates
Standing, watching, in silence he waits
Watching the entries, the exits
The comings and goings
His head lifted slightly toward the sunsets
He reminds me often that my life is up to me
Yet there remains a guardian
Not a guardian to keep fear and pain away
No, a guardian to allow fear and pain to play
In the midst of my noisy din,
In the midst of my normal day,
Along the paths of chosen friends,
I find I live in the presence of my enemies
While drinking the choicest of wines
Breathing the breaths that are most sublime
All the while my guardian keeps watch by the windows
What he knows no one knows
What he’s seen, what he’s heard
The gusts of the wind, the songs of the birds
The cries of my heart, the darkness of my eyes
The stillness of my soul that has been mesmerized
By the things he can see and hear every moment
But there are no moments in eternity’s scenes
Space without time, movement within rhyme
And without
I swallow pride, I swallow doubt
Nodding slightly to my silent guardian
Who still has head lifted toward the sunsets
Who can I be?
Who is this that is me?
He sits there quietly
The gusting spring winds scattering flowers abroad
So that it appears the snow has fallen once again
A snow of pinks and purples and whites and yellows
Stories of newborn sullen fellows
Whose lives were a scattered glance
Yet in all their beauty, all their romance
The yearning lingers on
A light, a stroke, a sing, a song
The angel still keeps his watching, long
As the seas still swirling
The shoots unfurling
This life is just a whisper away
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