Herein Rests, A Possible Connection Between Angels and the Dreams of Common Men

I.  The Dreamer with Starry Eyes

A summation
revealed an
ending I had
not recalled
witnessing
at the time

A revelation
unspooled, like
yarn snagged
upon the kitten's
paw

A feeling of predestination
fortunately glazed the patterns
of memory

haunting the answers we learn to know so well,
yet never truly take the time to understand,
what exactly, are the questions entwined within
their spells

An epiphany
jolted upon the senses
where thought glances
in every direction; concurrently
parading our sentimentalities
in simultaneous reverie, upon
a freshly sculpted
landscape,

composed entirely out of stardust,
moonbeams and an unyielding belief

the kind exemplified by Fool,
Devotee and Plebian alike

and in such moments of divining grace,
peasants morph to seers,
Antiquity into youth

where all elements of degradation helix in mounting seduction, proffering the dusted, decrepit and entirely forgotten, splaying each, together, as one, unto a blindness birthed by faith's love

II. A Unity Of Angels

A unity is then forged
between absolution
and the opening of previously concealed
possibilities; a road such paved, in all
that glitters yet never rusts, where truths be
told and questioned high, yet never do the vagrancies
once again appear, cinched together through a tactility of trust

and here, tiers forever more be known
for through the phantasmic visage of apparition,
the hierarchy of Angels are lucidly shown

Unveiling the disposition of the three triads,
where each consist of choirs three

Angels to Archangels to Principalities
compose the Choirs of the lowest triad of the three

Powers, Virtues and Dominions
are the Choirs alive within the middle set

Thrones, Cherubim and Seraphim,
whose Choirs round out the Triad's set of three

ANGELS

Here are where the Angels of nature are joined
by the Messengers and Guardians

ARCHANGELS

are said to be, comprised of entirely
by the Angels of Fire and the Rulers too

PRINCIPALITIES

The Angels of Time and those of Personality
work towards reform, protecting all the while

POWERS

Of Form and Space
Historians and organizers
Keeping families, friends and a sense of home
safe from the evils that man is said to know

VIRTUES

Angels of Movement, Angels of Choice,
these are the Miracles that give guidance to and for
the Spirits of the Earth, Wind, Water and Fire  

DOMINIONS

Of Wisdom and Intuition,
these divinely lead and keep the order of the law

THRONES

Angels of Justice and will, many-eyed
collectors that create and give positive energy
as so relationships can thus be built

CHERUBIM

These Angels of Harmony and Wisdom
guard the stars and the light as they
provide knowledge and boundless love

SERAPHIM

These, the highest of the orders, God's special
servants, six-wings, four heads, fiery serpents
and Angels of Love, Light and Fire, keep guard
the gates, providing divinity it's protection from
all the negativity that man creates.  Beings of
pure light, ever-shining in such a brilliance bright,
make it nearly impossible, for man to ever truly
glance this groups Angelic sight

Together, these nine, provide
functions for God as well as to and for man,
kindly offering where they can, interferring at
times, if only to help thwart nefarious plans, keeping
safe both the dreamer, the commoner and those men
in desparation, along with the divinity that has created
each us all, be it Angel or Mortal, they keep safe all o'er
the Earth, Offering those with stardust trapped within their
eyes, the immaculate truth's that Heaven has, for them, decided
to unveil for them to espy.

To Rise Again (Greater Heights Have Been Scaled)

Slew foot polygon—a gross manipulator

one in the same—as facts—details—skew the page

for all the ins and outs—

for all the feral symmetry—

for all the finite skills suppressed—

for all the jungle operations hunkered

down—

So deep, that vacuous well—

forever locked—up, down, side x side—

jaw draped—from the random parallels—

between awe—and the every word spoken against, 

in spell—

in prisms—

of polarities—dualities—

beacons—cadmium contrition’s—

acting out—

for the veil of false pretense—

for the guise of diction—

for the holographic mark of time—

for the itch turned untimely cue—

Fate breathers,

henchmen to the idle ones—

content to float through belligerencies—

within broken vessels— meant for

toys, not for man

But who should cast such blame?

Is it he who skips the perfect stone?

Is it she, wielding such a silvered tongue?

or perhaps, it’s just those that need not sweat

yet are still the ones who always get?

the everyman sitting there—

on hands, on knees—trying to find

whatever comes naturally—trying to discover

whatever may come to mind?

—anything, something, anything please—

but what can be done?

but what else is there to do—

when we are many and they are few?

until the skies shift and the tides can turn

we cannot protect against the subsets spurn

when voices meet but never blend

and until they do and we can

 it seems the facts remain the same

that Everyman doesn’t stand a chance

As conditions can’t change

until one voice is heard

as progress can’t begin

until Everyman gathers ears

and states its case

   

The history of mankind is overrun with tales of ordinary men and women fighting the odds and climbing out from the deepest and darkest of pits.  The precedents are right there in the record books, it has been done and can be done again.