Poems, Poetry

Praise remains the specialty of angels,
A simple motivation for their song.
Unfortunately, we require angles,
Living in a world of right and wrong.
A paradise refines the call to praise.
Just being there evokes a love of being,
A perfect passion for unending days,
So beautiful it swallows up all seeing.
Our passions are, perhaps, well, more mature.
Nor are we capable of praise so pure.