LOFTER-网易轻博

Flocks of white, rising high

pure souls shimmering in the light.

In the wind and clouds, angels reside

Gently swaying above the crimson sky. 

From up above, time seemed to slow

and silence was music the angels know. 

Down below, chaos bellowed;

Darkness had risen out of the shadows.

A sharp cry hit an angel's ears

A baby had been brought to tears.

Outside the door, parents fought

Cursing each other's death to rot. 

Limbless creatures sat by the streets,

and all around them people fleet

No sign of care, worry, or even a look;

The creatures had gotten used to their invisible cloak. 

No butterflies can be spotted in sight

Instead, metal bullets pierce through the night. 

There is no Big Dipper to be seen

as smoke has filled where the sky had been. 

Grenades explode into harmonies of terror

Cunning crows croaked to the destroyed acres.

A war can be won, as we had believed

and so willingly, we set out to bleed. 

Glinting in the shadows was a backstabbing knife

and silence was all that was left when flesh and metal unite. 

The doves heard, and against tears they fight;

This was no music. These sounds bite. 

With a swoosh of the wing, the angels descend

making an effort to heal and amend. 

The wind carried the pure white spirits

First, to the lost souls and homeless.

The doves landed, inching closer

Hoping to warm and soften the creature's armor.

But the chainmail casted by rain and sleet toughened;

They could no longer see the difference between angels and pigeons.

At the battlefield, white feathers were unscathed

but the angels' hearts ached at the sight of unburied graves.

They sung a comforting melody, as beautiful as heaven

but war had deafened the ears once built to listen.

At the break of dawn, under a great big willow, 

Angels arrived at the apartment's window. 

They hoped to comfort the couple who fought like hounds

but there was only one canine to be found. 

The birds, desperate and hurt, 

entered the room where the sleeping baby purred.

As they perched atop the little boy's carriage, 

the first ray of sunlight shone at the gentle spirits.

Their time was up, and the doves faded

returning to the land where there is no hatred. 

Angels could only do so much

when peace had become a thing no one can touch. 

Slowly, slowly, the sun rose higher

Bringing light and warmth to the ice cold skyscrapers. 

However, within the light

havoc exists just in sight.

The stillness of cities cover up

and make excuses for quarrels and spilled cups.

Darkness hides behind stone facades, 

and even the angels can only sigh. 

How are we in peace when war cannons still fire?

How can we be at ease when children work and tire?

Words and thoughts can become guns and knives.

Weaponry control do not prevent losses of lives. 

Doves and olive branches are pure and beautiful,

while reality is not nearly as tranquil nor blissful. 

Helplessness do not lessen as quantity does.

So why are we still making a fuss?

Angels don't always lend a helping hand, 

and peace will be no reality if we act like a pan of sand. 

Only upon hope can peace be achieved

and hope is found within belief. 

Never lose your faith in humanity.

Never lose your soul.

Slow down, find peace within yourself.

Now look out the window.

You will finally see the doves. 

When the sleeping child opened his eyes,

he grabbed and giggled at his find.

By his pillow where the angels land,

was a green, dewy olive branch.