Shadows & Dust [poetry]

All Along the Watchtower

I dreamed a city, where I

stood near the juncture of

two sides of a city block.

Suddenly, within walking

distance, I saw massive,

ancient towers of stone,

and I knew at least one

belonged to the Archangel

Michael. Upon the apex

of one of them stood a

mortal man, my father,

though he looked nothing

like him, gazing down upon

the world from Michael's

point of view, gathering

inspiration for a sermon.

What must humanity look

like from an angel's lofty

perspective? I had to know.

The moment curiosity drew

me toward the towers, though,

they disappeared. Is it hubris

to wish the clarity of the

heavenly host for yourself?

Quite possibly. Perhaps it's

a gift to be honored, not

requested. Yet, I still feel

blessed merely to have seen

the towers, if only in a dream.