Ten Angels, 'Their Are Swearing Poem by James McLain

I have only now known,
with any true honesty, I am
my own, 'best to me.

How am I,
to do it- am I the best for me?
Is it possible to searve you any better?

And I so mean it friend to the fact,
that it is with you by your will,
continues out to the edge.

If at the edge has all lights in me,
truly may they say what of me.

Whom is it, from whence it,
whom in the end of it when once all were.

You said; With it no to quantity.
And quality then it is.

If I where ever again taken too the edge by mistake
I am accompanied, as for the angels waiting their
they are, more than ten angels their are swearing, of't ten swearing,
I do not cause the difference of light and dark,
from right from wrong, if what some are.