Sonnet III

The angel's wings were folded at his side;
his perfect feathers neatly tucked in rows
of white were shining in the sun. Below,
the earth was turning; water blue belied
the peace the world possessed. He stood beside
a newly-risen soul, a babe whose nose
had never breathed before it decomposed,
whose eyes had never seen and never cried.

The angel took the soul's small hand in his
and led the babe to see the almost-birth
it never had, the almost-life and love
of humans it would never feel. From this
it turned away. Forgetting mother earth,
the babe grew wings and lived its life above.