Hear Angels Of Heaven

Hear Angels Of Heaven
© Surazeus
2025 12 21

I hear angels of Heaven call my name 
so I wander outside in pouring rain 
and follow sad birds to the end of time 
but always end up back home at my cave 
where shadows of faceless ghosts dance on walls 
because my heart aches with passion to live. 

Eight thousand years later in flow of grace 
I find myself alive as this new me, 
so I search for truth with Lamp of Respect 
gleaming as diamonds in eyes of mankind 
which reveals that god is dream of our brains 
as ideal toward which we strive to evolve. 

Illusions of faith fall as withered leaves 
when snow of reality veils dark death 
so I tend each fragile flower of faith 
that blooms at beam of sunlight through black clouds 
exposing heart of darkness with calm love 
that guides our struggle to climb hill of skulls. 

Though I stand alone as last soul on Earth 
in vast library with ten trillion books, 
I hear tales from voices of countless souls 
so I sing to converse with memories 
that weave my body in matrix of songs 
till I vanish in vibration of thought. 

We hear angels of Heaven call our names 
so we gather in ring of stones by the sea 
each time our way loops back on wheel of fate 
because we return to the starting point 
at hour the dead sun in body of man 
resurrects from the longest dark winter night. 

April opens endless cycle of change 
at winter solstice when the sun stands still 
then shifts forth with slight adjustment of growth 
to start again seasons of birth and death 
as our bodies bloom, create, and decay, 
for we are atoms dreaming they are god. 

No longer fools on first day of the year, 
we share cups of honey mead in the hall 
buried under blizzard of sparkling snow 
till Wenceslaus comes in reindeer-pulled sled 
to slide down chimney just above the snow 
with bags of food and gifts from castle shops. 

Though our feasting halls have crumbled to dust 
that bury skulls of our ancestral gods, 
and land we farmed is paved with asphalt lots, 
we remember songs of angels on hills 
who welcomed us inside safe haven walls 
and taught us to write our names in the Book.