Treasure Island

Dustin Bennefield

(Semptember 11,1991 / GA)

To Where The Angels Fly


Part of me
plans on living forever
and then
part of me plans
on dying

but when I die
I will go
to where the angels fly

no, not Heaven

I don't believe in Heaven
I will go
to where the Universal Sigh
meets the
All-Knowing Wind

Where Love
exists alone
pure
Love

and everytime

I will think of you
think of how
we flew together

to where the angels fly

into this world
of fleshless
love

higher than that of
the parting kiss
higher than that
of the shining sun

and when I die
and fly
I hope you will not
join me

but continue with
our love
higher than bluebirds sing
higher than the heavens ring
higher than the angels fly

Submitted: Friday, March 30, 2012
Edited: Saturday, March 31, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (To Where The Angels Fly by Dustin Bennefield )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. I Was About Asking Why, Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
  2. How to Listen, Joyce Sutphen
  3. Nice memory, hasmukh amathalal
  4. Hey There Mr. Sandman, Richard Provencher
  5. I am only here, gajanan mishra
  6. OUR UNIVERSE, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  7. गावनिया गावनिखा, Ronjoy Brahma
  8. The Farm, Joyce Sutphen
  9. The Exorcism, Joyce Sutphen
  10. The Exam, Joyce Sutphen

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]