Angels Of The Mourning.
Angels of the morning.
The powers of love
are beyond comprehension.
they can drive the
lonely and disheartened,
to the edge of a bridge,
or tall building,
to leap in futility
to a sudden death,
simply because love has
died in their lives.
They become the tragic angels of the morning,
after failing to take wing here on earth.
Their crushed bodies found crumpled
at the point of their final impact.
Men have given up all of their wealth,
in pursuit of that perfect love.
Women thier innocence just trying to capture it.
Wars have been started over the love of two,
thousands were butchered over a passion denied.
Old men smile sadly at memories
of this long lost cherished friend,
old women still primp in the nursing homes
in hopes to catch a man's cataract filmed eyes.
Love lingers on the lips of men fallen in combat,
they whisper bloody farewells to moms, wives, girlfriends,
they are the Angels of the mourning masses back home
sacrificed to some distant cause for freedom,
They perish far too young.
Love haunts us long after it has passed on,
granite stones mark the trails of those we loved,
etched in tears and graced with flowers.
Love is uncompromising,
it is only our imperfect souls,
that break the promises,
and the fragile hearts that cling to them.
Love's power is beyond any mere mortal poets efforts
to capture it though we have the keys to try,
laid out in neat rows in front of us.
Trees have been pounded into pulp for centuries,
to hold expressions of love's sweet bliss.
Quills, pens and pencils scratched out the itch,
to expound on the aching need for it's companionship.
Even in the caves of prehistoric tribes,
men who hunted great beasts at extreme risks,
were easily felled by the hungry eyes of a woman.
Love is the mightiest power of all,
it can destroy hate, evil, war, and sorrow,
with the simple uttering of three words,
"I love you."
Let us strive to unleash this power daily,
in a world that knows too little of it's taste,
sharing it's vast gifts and reaping it's rewards.
We can be Angels of the morning,
blessing the days and nights ahead
with it's infinite warmth for all.
More by this Author
The Constipation of the United Blights of America ©-MFB III “ We the Puppets of the divided states, both red and blue, in disorder choose to deform a more perfect Union. We hang like...
I pause in my journey to the grave of my friend, to commemorate his birthday in a mid-December snowfall. The trees are skeletons beyond the gate coated in white. It is as if the bones, buried far below, have...
On the first day of xmas your true love gave you a schadenfreude Robin my hood... on April 1, 2004. ©-MFB III- All rights reserved As the rains subsided, I spied a mother Robin today dancing on clawed...
No comments yet.