The angels came to me when I was young
innocent still with thoughts un-song.
They told me of a universe,
that fell beneath a mortal curse.
The angels whispered in my ear,
‘What holds them back is another’s fear.’
Those angels came to me each night
told me often, ‘Follow the dark, follow the light.
For no path is wrong no path is right.
Though both of them may be filled with fright.’
I see the angels among our own
not sat up high upon a throne.
They walk this earth as if they’re us,
gliding slowly to avoid the rush.
They show us glimpses of memories gone
and show us right when we’ve gone wrong.
The path in front, the path behind
all of them tangles of our human mind.
Karen Hayward 2015 (Copyright)