Amidst all these angels
I am told
Jumping from 13,000 feet
is akin to surrendering
into the arms
of God

They have;
Moved beyond death,
Flown with eagles
Scattered the ashes
of their fallen

Danced with clouds
so gently
caressing the earth on landing
(part of their spirit remains in the sun
in the air)

more priceless than any painting

the way the light fell upon her skin
as if she emanated light from within

Then finding,
precisely the same hue
in the face of the sleeping woman
dreaming of love while she slumbers,
(under a painting within a painting)

As if Vermeer
had only just
set down
his brush

Reading her Proust in
the streets

Describing the softness
of her eyes

Knowing;
The Way will
Find me

I am that moment
we spent together
in bright sunlight

Someone once said
that only a fool seeks
pleasure in the heart of
god,


Better to seek death in the
heart of life


Worship your own tears
as they are the kindest fruit
of a terrible existence

Peace is soon taken for granted
for the thrill of war

We should stop judging
those that existence presents
us with
to
love

Time is a trick we play
on ourselves
(I did not invest all these spirits
in the same way that
the original philosophers
argued on behalf of their
beliefs)

My soul is noble
my heart is broken
my back is a soldier

With the force of a soldier I drive
on through every illusion
I must fade

Yes I must fade through
the clouds of all history's dreams

Time is not a machine

Delicate phantom corridors
of sleep
she follows me
into the recesses

My final angel
beckons
lost in the obscurity of
too much

Break open our
weapons
load up the silver
rounds

"We ain't got time
to die my love"
We're movin' too fast
to die

(I've seen her crying by
the wishing well
but you need throw no coins
nor make no wishes)

the devil is only one facet of my
love for you

Transmutation of the mystery
(this life is)
Light glinting off a mirror

Something flashing
Wings, dreams, wishes
(birds of the air: that must
be what our souls are)

Strange beasts diving deep into the
sea (must be what our hearts do)

Spiders creeping into
slim crevices
(our thoughts move
without reason)

Magic of which we
know
nothing