Angel on the edge of breath,
in the morning fog,
in the misty rain on my skin.
The things that burn in fear
burn your photographs to ashes.
I’ve forgotten your hand in mine.
A gun to point, inward or outward,
is just a dragons tooth tearing skin.
But I don’t know how love can win.
The world it is burning, without end.
You blow on an ember of lighted star.
Let it lead us to peace, to an end.