We found rest when he was absent,
They were in death, in life with absence.
We curved the living as a luxury
To sustain our feelings and emotions
Successfully achieved by our whims and wishes.
Gangs of angels were visualised and found,
Like the dead, these accomplished profoundly,
But a doubt never remained as to why we read
The images of light as something called everything.
The angels became us when they were young and we old.
The death remained on us when we were dead
And living concerned us, as a term to use once.
The deathly ones saw our eyes and ears move,
Where were the angels of death?
