'Swept Away'

Stained glass angels,
Thrashing in the throes of death unchained.
For lo, the net has withered and waned
Prison bare,
The canine's upper lip did curl asunder.
As they watch their lives being carved out
In the firmament they flounder.
Lo it never ends, that nightmare sound
They've grown so weary, to perchance around,
Those dreams, south of the border.
For things are not always what they appear.
Like nocturnal essences... ebony... sepia
And good woodshed brown.
In fabled garb of occidental renown
The african bee, grasps warmth
Perched atop integrated tree.
For it too can soar, as the sun will rise
Feel the flagrant ouvre of gentle gardens,
With outstretched wings and eyes
Of angels, their hands from above,
Reaching down, through purpled skies.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Poem by Rev.Bola Animashaun (copyright: 30.4.11 -ARR)
**********************************************