They’re all around thee,
They shall embrace thy soul continuously,
Thus — oh, God! — what terrors await thee,
Thou, thou are winged but ain’t flyin’,
Spread them n’ they shall not hurt thee,
Thou has no halo, still, thou stand between heaven n’ reality,
Looking down at the human beasts which surround thee,
Even though thou are a beast thyself,
Yet, thou only breathe during early mornings, rainy doomsdays n’ tender midnights,
Let no downfall shatter that holy spirit of thine,
For the divine spirit is thee,
What are thee, thou hurt guardian of the skies above,
Why are thou crying on paper for death, sorrow, happiness, n’ love?