What comes in fleeting moments
In the whispers of the night
Are the messages from rumors sent
By creatures’ flurried flight.
We listen to the stilted rhyme
To give it tender sense and style
But never underestimate the time
For angels watch us for awhile
To see if we indifferent are
To the wretched plight of lost and poor
Aeons mark the day, the hour
Within our dreams of blessed lore
And we shall cast our grace unto the star
Hoping to retrieve what has been gone so far.
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