By Stephen
Date: 2001 Nov 07
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Taken For Granted

when we were young we liked to think angels grew on trees...
they branched out among us, to aura away things that harmed us
they gave us fresh smelling shade, stolen away from noon amber rays
we took of them advantage, armored veins of protection
their sweet sweet lives meant to be so long, yet always ending short upon us
we can, do, bare witness to this cycle rendering, frozen in the haste of our lives
green peace surrendering, surrender to a dark brown flag
and again must we adapt for anti-comfort season
watching our subterfuge take away the beautiful--
crisp and delicate as they fall
as we walk, as we stroll
crushed and damper as they shelter
as we weave, as we falter
through a battlefield forest of suffocating Giving Trees
where flaming mighty swords of heaven lay skinny and bare, pointed all above
and fallen angels lay strung out over the scattered forsaken landscape, dead all below