Angels:

We watch for them to appear
like the magical of ancient lore
mythic and hidden like some, the
Greek Gods of Mount Olympus.

Serenity speaks foreign tongues
our ears hear whispers in sleep
pass it off as make-believe cold
and dreary seek warm covers.

Under the guise of sleep, humans
know ancient as fallen, but act as
demons in the light, forgetting
when angelic wings spread free.

Maybe we are those angels; we seek
existing - formless in hollow cavities.
When two angels meet, bliss creates
but demons lay wait in the summit,


Demons:

Surrounding angels with harmony
circling them in fervent hate not
wanting to see them alive; dead
they proclaim their apocalypse.

Moving-to-strike, down with their
end game, the demons arrive in
hellion form and battalion armor
favoring nothing but antithesis.

This apotheosis of burgeoning dawn
burning amends with destiny spears
and arrows with cold fluid flight
striking those who are the servants

Of the divine fire, extinguishing all
but the one hope that lives in us, we
seek to see angels but maybe we are
them; waging war against demons.

02/12/2010

Posted on 02/13/2010
Copyright © 2024 Michael Defries