The angels argue who will fall
first, and they choose you.
You are quick to laugh it off,
“O Angels, must I fall. Can you not arrange a ride? With all the power God holds, can he not find someone, who with me, could die?”
Amongst the extroverted residue
I see translucent trails of you.
I see you cry by the bins of Abraham’s bakery
you are just a sphere of blue
Without blowing my cover from behind the reed flute
I somehow wish to tell you
for years I’ve watched you grow into
a light above the architectural dispute,
and since a child golden cobbles heat up as you walk beside them on your way to Gabriel’s honey pool,
I see you between God and his first Repute
and since a young age you have had your eyes wishing to dilate,
cocking your head between God and Adam
wishing you could have a love as great.
For heavenly years I have tried to build up the verses to tell you that;
I have fallen in love with watching you and
I have come to always
see you behind me, ahead of myself
I see you above me, I lower myself
my only wish is for you to be brave enough to grow form
so I may hold you and you may have, just as you wished, a love to fall for.