January 19, 2010

We ride on the shoulders of Angels

With my mortal eye, I see fire and brimstone
With my mortal eyes, I see corruption and failure.
Great leaders, who were lousy fathers,
Great Fathers who were lousy leaders.
Laws and lawmaking, messy and confusing,
Good and bad, all jumbled together.
Who can tell the profane from the divine?
...
Yet we ride on the shoulders of Angels!
He came to Observe, yet he removed concrete from a child's brain!
He came to report, yet he saved a child from a predator.
Warriors are evil and warriors kill, yet warriors protect and warriors heal.
On wings of steal, come angels who heal!
...
A man who can march with his heart like lead,
Kill with a button, murder with a pen;
Such a man is moved by a crying child.
From disparaging, militant hate, he opens his hearts gate!
From marching orders, comes mercy and compassion.
All because of a little child's cry!
Who is the angel? The child or the warrior?
...
And to those in a warm bed on a ship in the sea,
Angels are very real,
Even if their appearance is steel.
Posted by cholte at January 19, 2010 09:37 AM
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