Rage of Angels

© J.A. Storey -Taylor 1988

I speak to you so softly from a place of understanding,

But would any recognise the cost of being undemanding?

I reach to touch you gently, with tiny, tender hand,

But of the price of sacrifice, would any understand?

I bring to you my laughter and a light within my eyes,

But of the fee it asks of me, could any realize?

Would any care to witness the raging of the angels,

Or bear the human tragedy of watching as we fall?

Would any dare to testify to the sorrowing of the seraphs?

Who would cry and who would lie - and who not care at all?

There is no man cannot listen when the angels start to sing;

Nor delight in the light and the colours which we bring;

Nor be touched by the trusting innocence of beauteous angel faces;

Nor be lifted by the lightness of our ever loving graces.

But the man who would join us, casts caution to the air,

When heart and mind tossed carelessly comes tangled in our hair.

Enraptured becomes captured as he struggles wildly to be free,

With the binding winding tighter between man and destiny.

He fears us as his captor, resents us for his pain;

And as we bend to help him, he struggles yet again.

Angered, embittered, we are seen in his plight

As sirens and demons and devils to fight.

A knife to tress to locket - and throw away the key;

Pretending there was not a day the angels came to tea.

Yet time does open every heart, as will it open his

And shall he well remember the sweetest angel kiss.

But there will be distortion, as such a memory must -

For one cannot take of angel-cake and make it angel-dust.

He knows he would have hurt us, but could not take the shame

Of knowing that he only has himself to blame.

So he will smile proudly at the dream he nearly built

But, taking out the curl of gold, shall find it faded guilt.

Would any grieve to witness the raging of the angels,

Or perceive the human tragedy which brings about our fall?

Would any believe to relieve the sorrowing of the seraphs?

Who would pray and who would play - and who not care at all?

You speak to me so softly from a place of understanding:

You know that I will bear the cost for being undemanding.

You reach to touch me gently with slender, tender hand:

Of the price to sacrifice, I know you understand.

You have dried the tears, seen the pain, hidden in my eyes;

So of the fee I ask of me, I know you realize.

Your gentleness is a balm which soothes the raging of the angels,

Your kindness blessed gift to ease the harshness of the fall,

Your sweetness makes joy of the sorrowing of the seraphs -

And I thank you and I bless you that you should care at all.

Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Share via e-mail
Share on Stumble Upon
Share on Google Bookmarks
Share on Digg