Angel Of Hope’s Persistent Flight

By Anonymous

I.
Wreaths of nuclear ash
decorate civilian hearts
with unresolved blood.

Greed, crowned emperor,
rules the earth with cold disdain
for harmony’s path.

War poisons the land
like diseased minds downloaded
into bowls of tears.

Chaos, loving none
so much as itself, slurps and
spits dead souls like bones.

What is belief now?
What is faith that will not die?
What news from heaven?

II.
In midnight’s orchard
rose’s blossom the secrets
that heal daylight’s wounds.

Beats of broken hearts
flow waves of revelation––
open gates to strength.

Cradled in scorched arms,
a soldier’s moon keeps its vows––
shines persistent hope.

This love that God is
curves in figure eights greater
than both time and space.

Death wins nothing here,
gnawing wings that amputate––
then spread, lift up, fly.

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