Angelsong

Against the beasts which stalk the ground,
Or soldiers’ steel made razor sharp
And strong,
The sweetest respite can be found,
Amidst the dulcet angel’s harp,
And song.

A troubled mind and fiery heart,
Which burn in time to warfare’s cry
Of strife,
Can play a calmer, peaceful part,
And give a warm, contented sigh,
For life.

Those souls so wracked with doubt and fright,
Whose harsh assaults upon their mind
Won’t cease,
Can be, with mercy, bathed in light,
The Angelsong can help them find
Some peace.

The Angelsong’s a living thing,
A constant swirling thought that’s lent
A form.
Those few who hear the Angels sing
Are blessed to feel their heart content
And warm.

More holy than the staunchest priest,
The angels’ gift extends to all
That’s there.
The clash of sword and cry of beast,
Fall mute when angels sound the call
To prayer.