Prophecies of Angels

Prophecies of angels blare like trumpets
in ceremonies of innocence for the pure
of heart as crescent moons fall in azure
seas an eastern arc across sunrise skies

As orange fields burn new morning light
leaving only a trace in the seams of time
blazing embers of falling leaves as if
empty pages tumbling into eternal truths

The essence of emptiness can be seen
in Blake’s rhythmic scenes on the road
to Bethlehem or some other dream
visions of a New Jerusalem of the mind

Now the remains of embryonic dreams
might be inner visions or birthing screams
from cathedrals on high or songs
for the insouciant, prophecies of angels