Angels of Stone,
are you cold as the contents
beneath you?
Or marbled ministers
of hidden mercies
hovering over
fields of death
to watch the affairs
of men,
weeping rusty tears
for lost souls,
holding out hope
to living
earthbound hearts,
escorting last journeys,
scattering dusty
remains of a life,
to the four winds
on more heavenly wings?
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