AN ANGEL CONTEMPLATES HIMSELF . There is in men an insatiable craving after heights. They close their eyes and conjure further delights, an earth less parched. But, in their splendid innocence, they know nothing. . The sky is eternally blue, and we are beautiful. But who in this place would declare I love, I own, The fruit is ripe, it is today's? In this place we are all forever on the side of desire. . Wings to fly to where? We belong to nobody, nobody is expecting us, like an ornament we display. The half-smile of another death.