The look of light forming through his eyes
As he asked the immortal question;
The voice of a thousand-winds
Gathering into the Milky-Way;
A pure silver sliver of sentiment
Passes between us... thin as a breath, and deep as light,
And for just the briefest moment
There is no distinction
Between the living, and the dead,
For all here have arisen singing
With the new sun;
With tears in eyes
And the heartbeat of all the ages
Thumping deep,
Every angel holds it's breath...
Awaiting, the human response...
Very beautiful words here Smoky..my hat's off to you..(smile)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I just realized your poems remind me a bit of someone I knew, and I once wrote some poems about an archangel for them..you are a wonderful writer, as they were also..cheers, Smoky.. :)