Angels At Dawn Poem by D.S. Bell

I woke up cold one morning,
I woke up cold today,
And in these hours, I lay in mourning,
For between the creases, the sun is pouring.

Bright beams burst through the seams,
Boundless beauty between the sheen, and the serene.
Gold dust filling up the scene
Like some divine glitter following a current down stream.
And I stare, wondering if this is a trick, or a dream.

I imagine now, the light and dark are warring,
I imagine now Angels, both the Good and the Fallen,
And every twinkle and spark, a clash of two Angels brawling,
And I lay in mourning, hoping, let it not yet be morning,
And if it must, let the victor be the Fallen.
And if it must, let the victor be the Fallen.