Angels act like mirrored lenses,
Magnifying more distant angels,
In patterns of never-ending light,
Focusing their love towards us.
Even dark ones, between all that is known,
Will bend light rays passing close to them.
Whose very voice holds stars in the vowels.
Whose wings have fallen into my throat.
It would be indeed feasible;
To monitor millions of angels
And use complex technology,
To pick out a single angel
Behaving in a distinctive way.
But I am an amateur astronomer,
your background radiation admirer.
I brighten and fade in a predictable fashion.
Until I am voiceless skewered by love.
Until my will is that of another.
I monitored your movement with telescopes,
(from about 150 thousand light years away).
This phenomenon does not happen often.
For this contact I have been prepared,
To wait for a very long time.
Observing millions amongst the stars,
For something holy and foreboding.
