Angel

A superstition begins with a skeleton
Then the story is whispered around the room
Through the spiral of time
Given flesh by the brushes and poetry of artists
Painting images of luminous entities
Descending from occult planes
A mind tries to describe the phenomenon
Without the nomenclature of quantum theory
Sentient sentinels seeping from a rift of crackling harnessed energy
The words are at a loss
The primitive imagination would gene splice avian wings on the spine of a man
Layers of brilliant white feathers
Powerfully generating gusts of wind in the advent of an immortal bellowing into flight
Just to have the words make sense
Religion born to supplement understanding
The collective hive
Simmering in evolution
Forming the skin to shed