GENISIS;

As a child I imagined The angels as brick-layers, Later promoted to a divine bureaucracy No living eyes would get to see. As I grew older, I thought of them More like worker bees With eyes that don’t observe (Though they have the ability) But with hands that never stop moving. Now, I begin to understand, that Their direction, under gentle order, Was more akin to a willing kaleidoscope Brilliant colors and shapes A union of brilliant direction With a leadership that spun wildly Higher and higher up the ladder, And the angels, they sweat rivers And oceans and diamonds Over a world that they create, Pressing down at the valleys, Sculpting the grandest mountaintops And the most delicate roots. I dream of their love and precision For despite the spectrum of our flaws, The one sure thing we know about angels Is that one day, if we are deserving, We may become them.