This is the end of angels, no more will they rise,
For their sacrifice these lesser gods would be deified,
Now the angels weep, for they must sleep,
Their silent vigil over the world they can no longer keep.
They have been watching over this place since the world was born,
Now they seek eternal slumber, weary and forlorn,
Their gaze upon the world they cannot easily beget,
But that is something that their kind cannot willingly forget.
For eternity they have watched the world that they have often saved,
To their charitable feelings they are but as slaves
Today is the end of angels they are now dead gone –
Throughout the world they’re remembered in their reverberating song.
Today’s poem was composed while walking down London streets, and recorded in a rather poor audio recording on my ‘phone. I hope that you still like it. The next poem will, I hope, be fantastic.
The Hapless Neo-Romantic