When Angels Fall

- I discovered the gray interlude of expectancy-

Out of you-
your wants awoke the parallels
of why I give time space.

To watch you-
your insides take heed-
they carry the weight of my doubt.

The gratitude I give is taken-
to where it becomes a chance at clarity.

But passed on thru these perimeters-
empty grievances to reflect each other-

Would life be as simple if asked,
so should we receive the same?

Timid to become everyone,
I was restless to intrude ancient artifacts.

They enchanted your being.

In the beginning-
it swam through me like dirt on my chest.

My heart rubs like gold,
But is crafted only to see foolish pride.

I tell them one day-
the dirt will be yours for the keeping.

But they don't believe in something like
anthropology unless its off the shelf.

Out of you;
your wants take heed-
they carry the weight of my doubt.

Its something that conjures telltales
about being lost in translation of life.

Not exactly true to nature-
my intent distances my chance
to explain silence.

Aim free but somehow
I was to be only human to think twice
on existence.

If Angels really would fall-
If we asked them to.

All night I am tempted to be integrated
In something so fragile.

Like growing old the measures drift.
Like the spoken odes of transgression.

It is ancient to my will.
To meet you half way here.

But to the ode of all along the way
so simply was I too alone to be
close enough.

There's not much life on waiting.
At least to be reveled to it.

It takes me too long to see that
motionless I am too taken in my need
for a vision of entity to be understood.

- I want to be up there with the rest of them-

Those who take life by the hands
and carry with it vision.

by Scott J. Shepard

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