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.
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