I think about the cherubs
and the seraphs I knew yesterday
Whose pinions once were snowy white,
are mottled now,  with cynic' s grey

In youth,  I heard a sage proclaim
"The truth will set you free"
But misperception binds the senses
Ever so efficiently

My back is in the shadows while
I'm facing towards the morning sun
Wish I could replace those squandered
days, and leave mistakes undone

As fruitless as a ripened moon
that hides within a cloudy sky
As gaunt as crows bereft of food,
that turn their beaks to pluck out eyes

While I was sitting all alone,
a fool once said to me,
Careful what you seek,  for truth's
not always what you want to see

My face is in the shadows now,
while back is to the morning light
I contemplate rescinded vows
as angels plummet into night

I think about the cherubs and
the seraphs I knew long ago
Whose withered wings are raven-hued
but used to gleam like fallen snow