I have opened my eyes to the world coloured white,
to its blinding airiness where I will fly.
I am floating and angels’ blue wings bring bright light
while the body below looks so wasted – don’t cry.
Pearly flashes are playing on shadows of ink.
How to exit this torture, escaping abyss?
You are sitting so quiet, we are on a brink,
let me go, let me free, do not stop my decease.
Let the waiting white angel take hold of my hand
and allow me to fly from the agony’s site.
All the suffering ends and I now will ascend,
I committed no crimes. It’s time to decide.
Sordid illness - I tried and I cannot revive,
I am going to rest to become a white breath.
You will not be alone, I will not leave your life,
I will visit your dreams, to be near, to bless.
White Angel
© Copyright: А Н Е Л, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104050600824
Свидетельство о публикации №104050600824
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