Maybe

I have to find him; there is no other way. If he stands before me, the angel of seamless harmonies, what would I say?

Would daybreak reach the wilting sky? Would heartache melt and wander?

Maybe we could look for what we have all lost.

Blue winding twilight. I am yours and you are mine.

Sinking premonitions of the days to come reflect in the grief of these children's eyes.

Maybe the ones who really deserve happiness are the ones who will never get it.

Could there be everlasting delight? Could there be an end, justified by the means?

Nauseating, acrid and repulsive. A pungent smell stings the air. Challenged the shooting stars' shine.

Should you see these helpless trials? Should they torture our defiant purity?

Should I even go on?

I look at him; he looks at me, in wonder. Mesmerized.

Maybe I am what he has found, his flawless choral angel.