of angels

Wounded too
the soul can be

more fragile
than even the sea

for the longest time
I have maintained

a pair of ears
could heal

what the tongue
could not

sigh

my vision, however
has been rather shortsighted

and my understanding
incomplete

and I feel as a traveller
who upon the road

comes to a vista
of horizons golden

the view
forever changed

from the inside,
the work of hands unseen

forever and always there
if I had but the eyes;

for along with the ears,
my faithful companions

we two came upon
a sight

glorious and divine
golden as lions

in the gloaming
gleaming as the placid lake at dawn

and the soul reached
nay, lifted

rose not in speech
but of eye

and not of eye
alone

but of finger
of lightning

in a touch
of love

in a look
of the eternal

in a look
of the divine

of angels
that walk the earth