I met people who believe in angels…
Their clothes wore them over simply,
Their haircut was as plain as a floor cloth,
Their posture was somewhat self-denying.
Only their eyes were burning manically…
Their white of the eye died their spiritual face,
Their face then called for a random holy war,
But their elastic black of the eye was empty.
What’s the matter? – I asked from them,
Then, a thousand of unwanted explaining:
We didn’t create this world, but it’s created!
We are under an eclectical law enforcement.
Then, named and nameless angels came,
Telling me their roles in my life – helping,
Just simply as policemen save donuts,
And firefighters keep cats earthly.
I wanted to tell them a thousand words,
How I were eclectical already
Without angelic red lights,