They whisper to me of angels
tantalizing me.
They speak only of the moment.
And I stand nonplused,
and sigh.
The current slows,
The charm has flown,
and all thats left.
is dream
They whisper, they dance,
they look into the hourglass.
They live, they love,
and martyrs they become.
Flowing with the currents
they whipser only of broken halos.
Stretching the mortal coil
they swollow all their pride.
They dive
Never to rise.
They scream of broken halos.
Filling themselves,
Trying themselves,
Finding themselves,
Like I.
And their quixotic malady
plucks on every string.
Slowing the beat
four rivers cross.
The gates are locked
and adam cries for eve.
