ANGEL

 

She has always known

Since the beginning

My heart

She has always known

Watching, soaring, knowing

The truth

 

Hidden between the twisted strands

Of reality

And the unreal

Is nothing

But a canvas

At which we throw paint

 

By the handful

Some sticks

Some simply disappears

Where?

Streaking somewhere

Out there in the night

 

Why does she soar?

Above me throwing light

My hand

Dripping with red, blues and hues

Sent sailing with all my might

With wings still a small smile

 

The truth?

She soars

Watching, soaring, knowing

Reality

And the unreal

Is nothing

 

But a canvas

Waiting

Forever waiting

For a handful of paint

A handful of paint

A canvas

 

Both

In turn

We are

Troubled hearts

Contented souls

Both

 

In turn

We are

Soaring

Hidden

Between the twisted strands

Of reality

 

And the unreal