The Poetry Of Angel


There is a fair expanse
of blue in summer sky

But I am a prisoner to
my past and plot my
escape in black vacuity

I hold this precious
time in my hands and
let it sift through
bony fingers

while I dream of
breaking free
to being

of singing the
truest song of
all the ages

as if tomorrow
depended on the
crystal sound of
my voice

But I would have
to press my face
against the sky
and leave its
on blue heaven

to break the bonds
of this oblivion

and enter the space
of living once more





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