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| The Reply And the confusion sets in, my soul seems lost for if not lost, corrupt at least; The angel has fallen and what is more for reason and justice and freedom have ceased. My heart ripped asunder the wax has all melt and feathers, the dove, the trust now breached; The fall, decent into madness and woe and merciless the fortune of faith long preached. And choirs of angels sit idly by some crying, some singing, but all in pity; the hopeful, the lovestruck, the stricken they watch Is she there but not in charity? Within myself I see the angel all covered and smothered by unjust cause; I searched for the answer, the justice and truth but found only vile unforgiving flaws. And to this other I must address he lack of rationale and concern; you had the angel in your grasp but lifted him to the sun of morn. And the mess you left here now is not to trouble your simple mind; but worry not, oh bearer of evil of what you may one day find. Though you have cast the sinless sweet of God's own hand to the tasteless soil; think not you have destroyed the loved treasure for in time you'll regret what you did spoil. |
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