Soul-Angel

Sword arm pauses.  War-heat recedes.
Sacred soul-sister silently pleads
For only peace, which never has been.
Only has such been seen within
A soul with the humblest, most basic needs.

That soul I've fleetingly seen before,
Crossing my path when I'd naught left in store-
Nothing to which war-poet may run.
Soul-sister - Soul Angel - seeing poet undone,
Paused, to hand war-poet gold from her Core.

Now that the struggle nears grateful end,
War-poet's Soul-Angel finds him again,
On bloody battlefield, the fallen all round.
He lays still and quiet on stained, grass-less ground
Soul Angel holds his lifeless, talented hand.

"Where go we now, soul-poet?" cries she.
"Where is the hope for two such as we?
Ever you struggle, stumble and cease,
While angels sue to grant another life-lease
To you, hoping someday to bring you to me."

"If there were no God," croaks war-poet.  She starts.
"...then there'd be no hope for dead, shattered hearts.
No love, nor joy.  No sorrow, nor pain.
No wondrous bleach-water for eternal stain.
No creation.  No science.  No need for the arts."

"Just so, dear poet," she breathes in, relieved.
"But it's you has always and ever believed.
I want you to persevere through it all."
"I do.  I shall, though I batter steel walls,
But admit it.  You, also, have always believed."

"True," she smiles gently.  "Tis truth you speak.
No matter how strong, no matter how weak,
I will always have faith that triumph you'll find,
No matter how very far you unwind,
No matter how much life-water you leak."

Soul-poet saved, yet another time,
On Almighty God's e'er- gracious dime,
By angels, whose purity bring me to squint,
Dull, indeed, seem both steel and flint,
Compared to an angel's brilliant soul-shine.

Adam Scott Campbell