A Prayer for an Angel
I stand unwillingly in the shadow of the moon; I grieve. Make me an Angel, for I am a thief. Byzantine falterings.
Leaves blow across the face. Exposed. Plunder the burlesque heart -- cause it to break. Release!
Wild as the wind, sinister the spirit can be. Were the walls of my heart to assert, surely a whisper it would be.
Nadir, release the innuendo into the bottomless pit. Alas, abbreviated obscenity. No more.
Barren, stripped. Stains are left upon my robes. Peculiarity comes on slowly… a chimera.
Furore! Inspiration from a shameful conception. (A child to be dazzled, birdlimed by worldliness.)
Suppose? What if? Take the fetal grasp, make it into a fist. In its anechoic cage, declare it divine.
Be still.
As it takes the breath of fresh water… discordant in the sensorium, deprived… claret sounds surge through the garden paths. Rekindled.
Bewitch no more; the conniving of human underpinnings is emancipated. Your fantastic absolutions are anathema.
Wither in your attempts to measure sincerity, for in a golden day, this child smiles. Its love covers your heart. This child will fade into you…ask and it will.
Make me an Angel, sweet brother.
K.P.
