A shimmering, spinning bauble
Of alabaster white
Flapping in swift and silent motion
As if it weren't in flight
My eyes pertain to nothing else
All breathing ceases to him
The tiny Celestian angel before me
Where hovers my every whim.
The cold air of gasps slides down my throat
As the avian takes darting flight
Up and up, into the sky
Piercing vast midnight
He flits across the blanket of stars
A pure and noble vocation
A thin streak of silver, pointing out
A mere thread on destiny's location.
Alas, what ho! Do his deeds reflect
Some path the wits should follow?
For look! He darts, dipping out of the sky
Into a shrubby hollow.
Inside this lush canvas of foliage
He reverts to being still
And yet again (what a shame, to men)
I succumb to his will.
Being thus enraptured by the tiny bird
I understand a meaning
That yields only to those in cavernous thought
Underneath the thin membrane of seeming
For if I only seemed, then perhaps just a dream
Was my observation of the fellow
But through his flight, and scurrying fright
I was reminded of someone I know.
Perhaps through sweet revelations and reminisces
We find our true selves within
For through that bird's deeds, I could grasp the thread
That lay just beneath my own skin.
So perhaps I find fear in certain things
And take flight in the joy of night,
But no matter what the outcome becomes
I was blessed with an 'angel's' insight!