Home of Angels

See how their painted

Faces shine

With the rise and fall

Of the sun.

Pale and brilliant.

Eyes fixed, unmoving,

At one point in "heavenly" space.

Children stand at their feet,

Clutching their robes,

Scanning the room in front

Of their eyes.

Alas, they do not see,

But they are seen by many.

And many marvel!

Blissful ignorance!

A childish pleasure indeed.

In the dark of night,

Their faces change.

And their beauty fades away,

Drained into the safe corners

Of their unreachable,

Unobservable hearts.