He stared at the eye of the caliginous sky,
accepting its shining, warm embrace.
An eye white as jasmine, a healer of aches;
His grin extended to the dimples on his face,
like the red tint on ripening tomatoes.
Images from his young days flashed in his mind,
like a film strip that engraved his maturation.
From how his gentle spirit was in control of his persona,
to how his humanity was lost as he sliced the Adam’s apple.
Unwilling to forgive his sins, he was tainted with grey;
nevertheless, the genuine tone of the angel answered his unspoken prayers.
His sorrows were healed as the angel cried out, “fault on them,
the guilt isn’t yours to string along.”
As he blinked, he returned to his state,
staring at the eye of the caliginous sky.