for
things and persons that aren't
what
imperfection angels are
how image
marred, effete
heavy with
duty
and laying
on trowel
make folly
faith
shone
through with goodness
odd
vanishings
and speak
and have
the book by heart
from
heavens above
to souls
received
when they
fall
dark loves
are not requited
it's with
no thought of God at all
but simple
human yearning
to be
insect, to be bird
diaphanous
as fate
Like this bothering up to no 'thought of God at all...'
ReplyDeleteNot so much the last stanza although its final line intrigues.
oh well ...
ReplyDeleteyou can't always get what you want
...
but if you try sometimes
you just might find...