Poetry by Moongoole Blog

Far away,
In a venerated place,
An angel sat awaiting
His calling.

Presently a message was badly
Scratched across heaven’s screens:
Help needed,

Stations were activated and
Orders were passed along golden lanes,
But our new eudemon,
Anticipating his moment, was overlooked.

After the whistles had hissed, and bells
Compelled, the mist in the halls became incarnate to
Reveal the garnered souls whose woe had so excited the host,
And there, from end to end, all humanity attended;

All save the sender of distress. So after questions
Were asked of the circumstances, and answers were unable to
Unveil the truth, our young saint, still reeling from being unheeded,
Took matters into his own hands.

Deciding to land he set for Earth but finding
It barren he searched for a sign. Underneath a now crowded
Sky he reached into the planet’s flanks and in the soiled
Confines of an orphanage he found the reason:

A small child, sitting in its mess, and left for days to
Confess wishes to the world, had hurled them at
The sky, demanding better, and getting it;
Alone beneath the stars with his own guardian.

(C) iangoole

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