The Tale Of Squabbling Archangels
At first, it seemed an ordinary day
With only certain clouds a little red
When down the lane appeared a stranger's form
Whose body was not fastened to his head
I knew him by repute, and hailed him thus:
How many days, how many wand'ring hours
O traveller, have led you to this place?
Or have you been invoked by Higher Powers?
The spectre paused, and caused his head to turn
Beneath that vivid half-vermilion sky
Reflected he awhile, and then replied:
'Just as my form is not for mortal eye,
My purpose is beyond mere man's surmise
Beyond the grasp of mammal or machine
So ask no more'. Then went he on his way
As if he (even I?) had never been
I often wonder, thinking of that day,
When scarlet was the heavens' only hue
That, had I known what brought him to our town,
I might have trod some safer avenue
Or tried to stay him with a softer voice
With gestures more effusive, less direct
And given us the chance to learn much more
With somewhat less ambiguous effect
Contributors: | Beefy, Roland, TG. |
Poem finished: | 2nd July 2004 by TG. |