Slender beams of moonlight enter this darkened
church as I kneel, always in pain, always
lost, frozen here, waiting. Robed forms
wrought in panes of glass loom as dust dances,
forming an image in my mind,
penetrating my darkened soul.
A reflection on an angel’s face. I raise my head, now
crying out for this oblivious fate.
church as I kneel, always in pain, always
lost, frozen here, waiting. Robed forms
wrought in panes of glass loom as dust dances,
forming an image in my mind,
penetrating my darkened soul.
A reflection on an angel’s face. I raise my head, now
crying out for this oblivious fate.
Really well written. “A reflection on an angels face.” Very pretty. I’ll remember that line.