Angels don't die.
They go into occlusion,
Or travel incognito,
As if it makes a difference to us.
But for them
It is not mere semantics.
No messy resurrections for angels.
It's just like
turning off and on the lights.
Stars die.
Planets die.
People die.
Bugs die.
But, angels hide.
Sometimes God hides, too.
Perhaps, to be with the angels.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem