NO ANGELS

look above
how heavy handed skies are
your breath of life barely hanging in there
suddenly
no Angels to be found
with trumpets shining at dawn
overjoyed with harvest of Time
The Latest
planted on humans and ripe
for sacrifices

just grey scars that are long drawn
under the blinded Sun
for the next generation
of calm
waiting handlers
that acquired the herd
with Below’s construct
of viciously played Gods
and momentary Saviors

be one or be none
miracle of choice
standing its ground
if you only open your mouth for more
than the air of silence