! And Angels

The air from earth to Moon honey-gold with souls and angels; our every breath, rich with their spirit; invisibility is their modesty. To be unheeded, that’s OK too, it’s the humility of love. Angels; and those we call spirits of another kind. A harsh duty on those ‘daimons’, to bring us woes that test us for our later good. Our curses mean to them, but duty done. They too as all the rest gazing only to their Source; yet sometimes, sent as messengers; their message clear, their journey perhaps joyful with it; their gaze is now on human kind. What do they think of us? Or are they past all thought? Or, rich in the understanding of our mortal souls? Do they, announcing to that Mary a miracle, smile as they deliver? How much do they reveal of Him? Or do they in that instant become her own humility? The air, honey-gold with wonder; we, breathing angels, angels breathing us.