Little Miss, Pretty Miss
        Blessings light upon you!
If I had half a crown a day,
         I'd spent it all on you.

He was out in the field
Trying to earn a living
He did this every year
Nothing had ever been given
The sweat poured off his brow
Humidity was overwhelming
The Sun's rays like hammers was beating down
Being on the verge of starving was compelling
Making him work that much harder
For he was paid by the bushels he picked
Every night he gave God thanks for the farmer
For he was very fair, although very strict

The man stood up for a moment stretching out his worn out back
Sweat dripping from every pore, he took a look around
He stood there counting his blessings, not the things he lacked
He was determined not to let this poverty driven life get him down
He continually worked so very very hard, he never slacked

His eye's fell over the field that stretched out to the horizon
Through the dust and haze, beamed his beautiful smile
For in his mind he could see what use to be, the mighty herds of bison
The Indians like him just trying to carve out a lifestyle
They where also unjustly exiled

But none of that mattered, not on this sweltering day
He knelt back down to get as much work done as he could
For his children where hungry, their bellies would not get filled by the Sun's rays
He was a better, taller man kneeling in that dirt, those that knew him understood

When once in heav'ns of swelter'd glimmer'd heat,
The shock of all reflection in the sun
Oft charged all veins through body to the feet,
And Godly blessing's kingdom I had won.

'Twas all in first what men could want to dream,
All meat and grain with dozing nectar sweet,
My fingertips with lightning wrath may seem
All pow'rful, yet my inner part doth cheat.

Where is my heart? My noble heart then dies,
And leave the Gods where Godly power lies.

I ne'er thought I could boldly leave the clouds
And long lost father's thoughts then to destroy,
But 'neath those wand'ring feet can pass the shroud
To live in silent abstinence of joy.

I lay in awe as an angel lays beside me
and I can't help to wonder if this is it,
if this is the heaven-sent, God-sent miracle I've heard one has to experience to believe, to believe in God, to believe in heaven, to have hope, to believe in blessings. I wonder if she - this angel - is what one needs to believe in divinity, for It's impossible to meet an angel like her and not be tempted, and practically forced to, and be left with no choice but to believe in the celestial. It's impossible not to believe in God himself after you've been able to lay beside such holiness, after you've been able to watch an angel sleep in all Its sacredness, speak in all Its sacredness, revive you with all Its sacredness.
You're left with no choice but to believe that those days you believed to be your last days of life, those shaded days in which you prayed to a God you never before saw, the almighty invisible being you believed was deaf to your plea, wasn't really all that deaf.
It's impossible not to believe that God himself - the God you now only believe in because of the angel who leaves you no choice but to believe - sent you and angel, that he has heard you.
I lay in awe, blessed I lay, as an angel lays beside me, for how can someone with those hypnotizing eyes that devour you every time not be an angel, how can someone with that majestic, goosebump-causing skin not be an angel, how can someone with that gracious walk not be an angel, how can someone with that spirit-grabbing yet spirit-giving touch not possibly be an angel?
I lay in awe as an angel lays beside me
I believe, as an angel lays beside me
I now live, because this angel lays beside me

                                                               ­                     - F.V.