The silence was beckoning

The morning came early and woke me from sleep
The warmth of the blankets my soul could not keep
So rising I pondered with wisdom and light:
Why should I rise up when all seems like night?

The silence was beckoning and calling my name
The surroundings were familiar but no longer the same
Whispering with the rhythm of the circular clock
The angels were gathering and  engaging in talk

There must have been motive and reasoning for this:
Pulling me  from slumber to ponder such bliss:
Something so spectacular and glowing with light:
A host of many angels were invading my night

Words were not spoken with  soundings I know
But rather were rhythmic and in a coded flow
Sparkling with the essence of all who are Divine
I now hold their  messages in this  poor heart of mine.



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