Forgetting the moon

I haven't posted in a while and friends of mine have been wondering why. I guess I can blame it on the moon. I've seen it in a while nor have I stopped to look and wonder as I used to. That personal connection that I had with it feels like it's no longer there. That muse that would fuel my soul doesn't feel like it's calling anymore. Perhaps my muse is something else that I have yet to find or perhaps my "gift" is slowly fading into a world I haven't dreamed about yet. Whatever the case may be, I feel myself slipping.

It used to be that anger willed my poetry sometimes. Thinking of the people I hate the most and channeling it into something useful was easy at the time, but now that I'm letting go, it's getting hard to stay angry. Maybe that's just my "Archangel" within me talking and I'm just not the kind of person to hold a grudge forever, but right now, I don't feel like being angry.

Right now, I feel like writing something happy for a change. Something that will make people see a side of me that is rarely seen. A side that feels strongly for people no matter who they are, no matter what they've done to me or others, no matter where they come from, or what they look like. A poem dedicated to all people. I offer to all of you reading, a glimps into the mind of Archangel when he's at peace.

Beyond the asphalt covered former paths,
Above the highest tips of the sentinals that block the eastern and western sun,
into the mountains of long forgotten stories and dreams
is where those who seek peace often go
to lose themselves in life.

Deep in the darkest and dimmest of places
among jade leaved trees and amber lit grass,
which crisp sound bring the thoughts of spring,
the birds welcome the presence of an angel
wondering through the world
looking for a quiet spot to rest his mind.

Down shall he lay his burrdens
and wonders of the world he leaves behind.
His eyes to the Heavens above him
as he glaces through the peaks the trees give him.

The wind,
so cool against the warmth of his heart
whispers secrets through the trees
to tell him that this is how life should be.
On the wings of birds should our troubles fly.
Let them take them far away to places we may never see.

Rest your wings within the comfort of spring.
In the distance flows the essence of life.
Never does it need reason to do as it does,
never does it ask permission to move as it will.
Oh the questions we could answer by finally
closing our eyes and opening our minds and hearts
to the sounds of angels resting in the grass.

Only they can hear that peace still exists.

Only they will tell you how to find it.


© 2008 Archangel