He walks the streets in quiet grace,
No halo bright, no shining face.
Among the crowd, a soul concealed,
An archangel’s truth, never revealed.
No wings unfurled, no armor gleams,
Just mortal guise, like in our dreams.
He hears the cries, the silent pleas,
And battles darkness with quiet ease.
No one suspects the strength he bears,
The sacred fire beneath his cares.
A guardian cloaked in human skin,
Fighting wars we cannot win.
He stands beside us, day by day,
In humble acts, he lights the way.
Yet none perceive the power near,
The archangel who walks so clear.
So when you feel a hand unseen,
Or courage rise where fear had been,
Know Michael lives, though none may see,
Among the mortals, silently.