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Michael McGuire
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Animals and Angels
I will not suffer gladly for the penance of the wing,
The animal must validate his hunger,
Humbled silence whispers sage but cannot say a thing,
A desire goes blank as the blood grows younger, The elements grow weary of the strain of Heaven's weight,
The construct is a reference to this bearing,
Sky is all fireworks and shooting stars when the angel's mate,
The animal struck dumb in wonder staring.
Heart pumped worlds grow weary in the chase of orbit's tail,
Surviving on the crumbs of life's token,
Bated with dumb reason when the strut of time does fail,
And the statuary of this life lies broken,
Illusory skies beckon with the chanting of the lot, Animals fight in temples of creation,
Lost to all that tooth and nail can divine from this plot,
Vested in the power of sensation.
Animals and angels and Heaven's dream of Earth is on the cusp of waking,
Doom and glory twinned in rapture's question; the oneness made flesh in this aching,
Buildings forged of words corrupt the flight path of the angel's deliberate wing,
As the animal tries to take his feeble growl and make it sing,
The sky is Heaven's warning of the brutal ground and its wing-crushing catch,
And how must you deliver grace to this wingless; dreamless and tooth-fed wretch,
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Stuck in habit worship and the vivid plainness of the flesh and its decay,
There is no tread that does not lay intent on the dumb truth of the manufactured way.
I will not be crushed beneath this endless depth of sky,
Hung in gravity upon this alter,
Encrypted dreams that only bring the dreamer a new why,
In choice-divine he is left to falter,
The ceaseless ceremony of the clawing at the dirt,
Living down the burden of the meaning,
He fumbles with the keys of Cain and the duty of his hurt,
While all of Heaven's host is drunk and leaning.
I do not know the reference for the coin of the days,
The angels bait the paradox of motion,
Habit of direction qualifies as the way,
Fantasy goes drowning for the ocean,
When the sky is grounded upon the animal's tired back,
And angels tread the path of his making,
The inventory taken then of all that he does lack, Will humble angels to give what they've been taking.
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