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.