That we could be more perfect than angels

Is an ancient holy promise --

Though how that could be so

Is difficult to understand...

Like wondering what or who puts the quality

Of brilliance in a gem deep in the earth..

Or why...

As a gem is hardened in the fires of the earth

And an eon of river tumbling brings forth a polish

Trevail smoothes our rough places,

And brings forth pure intentions...

In old age there are those

Who having known much hardship

Have eyes like a sky of love.

But it is the eyes of the innocent young

That bare the promise most purely;

As yet unscathed by the world

How beautiful are those eyes, those hearts,

Those bodies full of grace...

In a world of broken hearts

Where souls cry bitter tears

Promises are remembered

Stored like treasures.

It is good to know

What we were meant to be

And it lightens the heart

To see wise words made

So incredibly visible