Why do Angels fall?
Is it their heavy Wings? I wish I knew.
I have no wings and I have fallen many times.
Perhaps I’m not an Angel anymore.
Darkness is a traveller with bare feet; dirty and starving.
He has the kindest face and pleading eyes.
Why else would we let him in?
Give him our heart to sleep in; let him eat of our soul?
We quench his thirst with our tears.
I even cut him a key from my dreams.
I don’t want him a guest anymore.
It’s cold down here. Hidden from the Sun.
I’m changing my lock with a new dream.
Be careful, he may need a place to stay.
I know he will visit me again.
And I will greet him at the door.