Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Mortal Pleas

In which way am I not damned?
Angels are not blessed
To fasten wings on mortals
In hopes to observe the day I soar
On flesh whose knees
Are immovable from the ground
I humble myself to the Earth
The way is which is opposite of flight
Pleading to place me where I first began
Accusing it of what it has created
Of what produces life so strong
Has missed an existence so weak
I beg for the angel to reason
Deaf to my mortal pleas
Its own reflection in which it responds
For it is the highest angel of all
Knowing perception deems perseverance
To announce my position
In which I am not prepared
My uncertainty is my reality
My breath is my only motive

Racquel, Founder
Artist’s Square
~A Place Where Artists Go~

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