Black Angel

There were many legends of the black angel.

Many stories to tell from generation to generation.

Countless dreams of the thief of hearts.

And yet legend were legend,

Stories were stories,

And dreams were dreams,

Till the night I saw a black feather float down to earth from the heaven of the night.

Gently it came down and down to this place,

Where I stood,

Softly it landed into my waiting hands,

Slowly I closed my hands upon the treasure I found in this black night.

And there before me,

Stood the legend of stories and thief of hearts.

Looking straight into my pounding heart,

Was the black angel.

Yet I stood there with not but surprise and confusion.

Confusion of feelings as he silently stood before me.

He not smiles or glares,

But stood as a beauty of a statue

Sent from the black heaven to tempt fair maiden to sin.

I can only stare with admiration of his dark beauty

That steals many hearts before mine.

Yet he but stares, not with smiles nor glares,

But with sadness;

Sadness through times and ages of the dark universe.

Yet I dare not ask why he wears such sadness

Around him like a shield, to protect or defend.

I can only but comfort such beautiful sadness,

As I gently laid my hands upon his chest

Where his broken heart lays,

To try to heal a wound of deep sorrows.

He but only stares at my boldness,

Yet I knew he was much comfort from my touch;

A touch not of seduction but of same sadness.

Still I can only offered him back

What was his in the first place,

Yet he did not take what I offered back,

But gave me a soft brush against my own lips,

And there he vanished into the black night

That protects him from such sadness as mine and his.

I can but only silently watch,

His black feather in my hands,

As he flew away into the dark night,

The black angel of legends that was told

From generation to generation

And thief of heart in many dreams.