He who bore every live face

I was once told that angels were in pearly gowns

Shimmering in the sunlight, an illusion of something holy

Something that is worshipped among the towns

And had their souls reaped to serve god and the living solely

In my travels in spirit, I had searched for evidence of this

Only to find nothing but dread's solemn kiss

My head has grown weary and my vision has blurred

Yet I still search for he who has once stirred

Perhaps he had been with me all along

Some curious creatures had informed me in a song

That all angels had been devoid of pure spirituality

And some could be quite devious, that is only reality

I listened carefully for the example they had gave

As they danced around with dainty creature legs that were devoid of shave

Some had necks distorted and long

Other whose faces I could not make out along

As they moved and dazzled, I grew faint

Their songs beckoning me to the rest of the final saint

My throat had run dry and my legs had grown weak

To the point where along my travel I must limp as I seek

To these notes I had resisted

Just listening for the example they insisted

An angel whose face is constantly changing and shifting

To everyone that still lives in a world constantly shifting

Despite these creatures' fright, I could not match

For instead I found myself captivated like a butterfly forcing itself to hatch

But the world around me faded once more

And then I awoke with my throat and legs sore

I gazed at the ceiling above me with violet outlines

And shapes that were constantly shifting

And yet, despite these obvious signs

I chose to close my eyes once more, feeling something within lifting