by Nicholas Gordon
Each angel has a voice its own,
Vocally distinct,
Even as it longs for home,
Lured to Being's brink.
Yet billions, billions sing as one,
Nearer than they think.
Each angel has a voice its own,
Vocally distinct,
Even as it longs for home,
Lured to Being's brink.
Yet billions, billions sing as one,
Nearer than they think.
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