The Choirs of Heaven

From the highest reaches, where light burns eternal,
the Seraphim stand,
six wings aflame with God’s unending glory.
Their voices tremble the cosmos:
“Holy, holy, holy,” they cry,
infusing creation with love that cannot fade.
They are the breath of Heaven,
the fire that cleanses,
the pulse of divine perfection.

Beneath the blaze stand, the Cherubim on guard,
knowledge cradled within their countless faces,
wisdom pouring from these angels eyes like rivers.
Once they barred the gates of Eden,
their swords aflame to shield a sacred tree.
Now they bear the mysteries of existence,
keeping secrets too vast for mortal hearts to hold.

And there are the Thrones,
wheels within wheels,
spinning with the weight of God’s justice.
Golden orbs alight with clarity,
they roll across the heavens,
balancing mercy and wrath.
Through them, the will of eternity is known.

The Dominions rise,
silent and serene,
their scepters carved from light itself.
These Angels command with gentleness and care,
not of force but of purpose,
ensuring the stars spin in harmony,
the tides obey their unseen laws and the winds carry their sacred breaths .

In the open skies, the Virtues shine high above,
their hands outstretched,
bringing miracles to the earth below.
The bloom of spring, the healing touch, the snowflakes that gentle kiss the ground of winter,
the spark of faith when hope is lost, they bring  all gifts of these radiant spirits,
channels of grace to weary hearts.

And in armor forged of celestial fire,
the Powers stand sentinel,
swords unsheathed,
shields braced against the shadows.
They guard the balance of worlds,
warding off chaos,
their battle cries echoing through eternity.

Closer to earth, the Principalities watch.
They are the unseen hands
guiding nations, whispering wisdom
to rulers and poets,
guardians of cities and their people.
Through them, empires rise or fall,
always by divine decree.

Then come the Archangels,
mighty and magnificent,
each a vessel of God’s singular intent.
Michael, the sword of Heaven,
leads his armies against the abyss,
his blade cleaving despair from hope.
Gabriel, voice of the divine,
carries messages that reshape the world:
“Fear not,” he whispers,
to those who tremble in awe.
Raphael, healer of wounds unseen,
walks beside the broken,
his touch mending both flesh and spirit.
And Uriel, bearer of light,
illuminates paths hidden by doubt,
a beacon in the darkest hours.

Finally, the Angels, closest to man,
with their tender eyes and open arms.
Each life they cradle,
each prayer they carry skyward.
They are the unseen companions,
guiding steps along life’s narrow path,
their whispers like winds through the trees,
their presence a quiet comfort.

O, celestial hosts!
You who bend not to time,
who stand as sentinels, servants, and friends
your purpose is woven into the fabric of existence.
For the heavens turn on your wings,
the earth endures by your care,
and humanity, fragile yet eternal,
is bound to you by threads of light.

Teach us to see as you see,
to rise beyond the fleeting dust,
to find meaning in the endless sky.
For we are mortal,
but through you,
we touch the face of eternity.