The Death Angel Poem by Louis Borgo

Heavenly rain salt bend earth shake look to a past of a Colosseum rims rings of sight in power of tar of black salt it might

hate wrath the bitter taste look a man a thunders snow storm clap elapse the wrath seen with in a man heart in deeds

for felt for those knew a path emerge to take a look or shadow that may felt as one


notice of the up bring weapon or siege of peace engrave look of past of family crest

yet weapons are forge what forms a over cast a past wounds to walk along is who yet to judge should a man character show

for every strive of every stone willing step of breathe words over clam shadows voyage

breathing moving sense is more of pasting of time pain that judge holds higher to move on to each tactic

lost of words or lost to found peace of mind hold on to hold to holiness.