Misty Morning Angels
by Kevyn Bashore

Diaphanous liquid roils, undulates,
Gently swirls...
Adamʼs ale brewed
By the rising Eye of Helios,
As drifting dream-like dances
Of Misty Morning Angels
Stir awakened deeps.

Wells burst forth from
Bloated bowels of heavenʼs bounty:
Torrential tears of zealous joy
Flung earthward bound,
Then soaked, sprung, wrung, and
Returned again to azure skies, to
Jealous Eyes that search and burn--
All-seeing--
Darkness, Light--
In every human sphere.

Yet graces men with graces graced for
Each heinous breach and lurid longing;
Patience squeezed, crushed,
Extruded, pressed, pulled, pummeled
Under Loveʼs Blood-soaked Canopy of Life--

Where Irony and Hope collide,
And Paradox and Truth unite--
Unending, unreal, illogical, unbelievably
Preposterous, inextricably super
Naturally, defiantly, unapologetically Real;

Sealed not by human hearts or toiled will,
Hewn not by soiled men or silken saints--

But by One who breathes the dust of Angels
And the flames of suns--
Who stands in the furnace of the universe and
Keeps company with fallen sparrows,

And with Kings who may be Paupers,
And Paupers who may be Kings,
And with fallen Children
Who may one day rule Nations--

And with Nations that may one day
Have eyes to see the
Drifting dream-like dances of
Misty morning angels...