November 14 by The Running Son
✧◦◦ Midrash ◦◦✧
Names: the angels age-old complaint.
Breath bated, waiting
for unified frequencies to collide (but not abate),
exploding with a nebula’s strength and weight,
and a pulsar’s intense density,
thereby coming to rest
with graceful ease, being each angels natural State.
We shall drink, all,
from the cup that never empties—
love, the substance angels desire and envy;
braiding heavenly hopes, weaving them
with weary human souls,
by fate ∞
by Jim Aldrich
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.