wings, of

the angel prefers to be at rest,
to stand or sit, feign gravity
where you or I would soar at will
if we were given liberty -
not congregate in libraries
to listen hard, so serious
to what mere mortals think,
unself-aware, lost thoughts
(it is a fact, our deepest thoughts
are poetry - but only angels hear)
and we are lost. So lost, no lone
consoling arm

could lift the weight
of thoughts, that come crowd in
to do us harm