Aftermath (after the fall), Jean Jones poetry

A dead soldier among dozens was being escorted
By the angel of death when he turned
To ask her a question:
“Why do you exist?” he asked.
“What is your purpose?”
The soft eyes of the angel of death
Turned white for a second as she responded:
“I exist at the origin of dreams. As long
as men dream of me I will exist. My purpose
is to carry out the desires of men, and you
are the results of the desires of men.
Now come with me.”

Image detail © Stephen Collector, see the complete Angel of Death image and more of his work at Artzar.com

Jean is co-editor of wordsalad.net