A voice he hears, resound the hall,
As he resists, asleep, to fall.
The night watch guarding treasure grand,
He listens close for rooster's call.

"And who is this, that she demand,
My ear tonight by soft command?"
He rises quickly from his post,
To scour and search o'er all the land.

His armor, strength, and stature boast,
His tours from peak to plain to coast,
But confidence won't last for long,
When mystic visions, senses host.

For all at once, he hears the song,
Of angels, trumpets, strings, and gong.
His meager flesh does quake and yield.
The clouds fall too, at notes so strong.

The sun is set and night is sealed.
The moon sails over silent field,
Yet still he sees trees sway and bend,
For stars as lamps these angels wield.

"Turn back now mortal; your watch, tend.
Nor worry now, she is no friend.
This woman whom you seek to woo,
Will not be yours, in any end."

Their lamp-stars changing, white to blue,
Their words like daggers run him through.
"Few orders have I deigned lament,
So angels, why must I hear you?

Who charged you to make your descent,
And tell me what is their intent?"
The angels stand there, stoic, fair,
Shocked by his mortal dissidence.

"Tread light, God knows you walk on air,
Against your arrogance, take care."
Then from their robes, so lovely white,
Shines out the Face of God laid bare.

The countless angels take to flight.
Their glowing wings erase the night.
But he can only hear the storm;
For in their flash, they took his sight.

Now silence comes, in its full form.
To bring him peace, in his new norm.
A challenger to mighty Fate,
He savors silence, calm and warm.

Right back, he stumbles, to the gate,
Arriving in the morning late.
Although the treasure wasn't lost,
His fellow guards greet him irate.

Against the ground his name is tossed,
And yet this shame is all his cost.
His nights in past were flawless, all,
So he's kept on as a night watch.

He sits each night inside that hall,
His pounding heart ready to fall.
He listens close for music grand:
The echo of her tender call.