There were sapphires on the table at midnight
dice by the door at the breakfast of dawn
there were people crying at the church called Hope
that's when I saw the warrior angel sister yawn

Her sword was by her sweet side a weapon worthy
and her silver amour, how so it gleamed
so beautiful and violently proud
she was like white lightning from a darkened cloud

Oh how flight is cruelly denied
to those wrenched few
and their armour is tarnished with tears
blackened by the hate of wars and years

Never the flavour of today
for they are tomorrow's children
echoes of yesteryears
spilling memories to the future


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris