Chasing Angels

What anger there is in shattered lives,
that blinds the heart's way,
that pierces to the soul.
That merges days to seconds,
spearing our vulnerability,
to release our inner blood.
To pour over history's marvels,
built from stones of dreams,
now washed away in floods of tears,
which strangle the roots and smother the life,
to nothing greater than existence.

In a hollow globe of three-quarter moonlight,
I'm no longer watching the clouds go by,
but listening to their dreams.
Now treading in their footsteps
So as not to leave a trace,
I'm chasing ghosts to the horizon
where I'll take the leap of faith,
that takes me not to secret gardens,
but along a darker path.
No longer fearing to follow,
the voices telling me to believe,
that I'm the one chasing angels
and innocence is to the end.