Little children love to come dancing,
Like tiny raindrops falling from heaven;
Glimpses into their unspoiled hearts,
Spread joyous rapture we can not measure.
Fallen angels come silently flying,
Like forlorned agents of lonely desire,
Their wings so gossamer, light as feathers,
How sad and distant their hearts are crying.
Furious demons come creeping along,
Slithering snakelike in the darkest hours,
Longing to carve their history in blood,
Causing great havoc on all who will listen.
Transparent clouds come floating freely,
Holding miracles of peace on this earth;
Hoping and healing we bask in their glory,
Knowing that faith is the beacon of light.