I want to know if angels cry
When they see what we're doing
Down here from the sky
I wonder if they watch us
As we wreck this world
Wreck all these places and people
Spinning little hurricanes
All caught up in our own eyes
Centred around what we can see
There's little room for any others

Or their own catastrophes
We live and work around ourselves
Self-preservation is what we
Never seemed to manage to lose
We always needed it, didn't we
Because of the dark alleys and back roads
The grimier corners that made us look twice
Over our shoulders and tighten our hands
Around the weight of the world on our shoulders
Because we didn't trust anybody else to hold it up

I used to think it was awful to be
Someone who spun around themselves
But I think I'm starting to find
That maybe, it's better to bind
Yourself to yourself, and keep arms wrapped around
Push up away from the hardened ground
I wonder if the angels see
Every tiny smile shared between the few
Who stopped to try and enjoy the view
Of a broken world full of people who want to fix it.

come forward, you sweet whimsical dream.
fill my mind up with all sorts of beauties.
leave my bed empty, but my smile frozen.
these euphoric senses dance on my duvet,
to later sleep on my pillow.
I wish I could stay here forever.
for this one feeling.
the feeling of something.
something like the very feeling of feelings;
feels peculiar.
here I have forgotten you.
here I am free of the idea of a
silhouette, that used to be mine.
but; there is always a but.
when the sun's lazy hot
rays tickle my eyes open.
and the birds, now mournful,
chirping trespass my ears.
there falls the heavy brick down,
and with a sudden bang.
I see the raven black silhouette,
crystallized in the corner of my eye.

When the faces repeat,
And you rinse and lather the imaginary relationships between.

It is time.

When you no longer care about anything but a smile and a wave.
And the real relationships are laid bare before you.

It is time.

When you're too close to the fire and know you it is so.
By the smell of your smoldering self-realized ego.

It is time.

When the moments have passed and the omens you knew,
Which have been good tor you, for so long, are now gone.

*Yes, it is time to go.

.

The unknown depths call out to me
promising oceans of tranquility,
so let me slip down silently
'neath the waves of a midnight sea.
Addicted to this supplicant swoon,
witnessed only by the waxing moon,
the descent into a liquid room,
as Sirens wail their plangent tune.
Surfing out the softest of tides,
'pon the crest of love my being rides,
to where the deepest of feelings reside.
I sink with ease most graciously.
So let me slip down silently
'neath the waves of a midnight sea.


© Pagan Paul (04/02/18)