This world was not
Meant; for an angel's
Display, the angel only
Cometh, to bringeth light
In dark day's.
The angel's only
Place, is from the
Star's wherein they
Came. The angel's
Art of God, not of
The world's hate.
The angel's art the
Bringer's, the messenger's
Of life; they cometh O' they
Goeth, they leaveth by the night.
The angel's art fading
Dying in mystical wind's;
Their partially human to,
For they've indulged in
Worldly sin's.
The world was not
Meant; for an angel's
Display. For an angel
Only cometh, to giveth
Light to empty flames.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC
This world was not
Meant; for an angel's
Display, the angel only
Cometh, to bringeth light
In dark day's.
The angel's only
Place, is from the
Star's wherein they
Came. The angel's
Art of God, not of
The world's hate.
The angel's art the
Bringer's, the messenger's
Of life; they cometh O' they
Goeth, they leaveth by the night.
The angel's art fading
Dying in mystical wind's;
Their partially human to,
For they've indulged in
Worldly sin's.
The world was not
Meant; for an angel's
Display. For an angel
Only cometh, to giveth
Light to empty flames.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
