Do you believe in angels when they cry,
In silent rooms where moonlight lifts the dust,
Where shadows braid your whispers with a sigh,
And time corrodes the silver frames of trust?
Do you believe in angels when they break,
With shattered wings that glimmer in the dark,
When morning grows too heavy for the ache,
And stars collapse to mark a lover’s spark?
Do you believe in angels when they breathe,
In every pulse that drums beneath your skin,
When heartbeats murmur secrets they bequeath,
And daylight drains the midnight’s whispered sin?
If angels dwell where ordinary dwell,
Then life, in mundane moments, whispers well.