Lifetimes longer
than the age of stone,
even from sea’s beginning,
I counsel with tides,
trace runes on the sky,
call ravens to my soul.
Carry me down
to the darkest waters,
lift me up to azure heights,
I am a man of mortal terror,
a wingless angel
who will one day fly.
Reading of “Wingless Angel”
These last three lines are beauts ~
Don — Beautiful poem this morning. Thanks for sharing. We are all “wingless angels,” waiting to really. Those brief, mortal flights we’ve experienced just whet our spiritual appetite.