Coefficient

Angels are coming to cripple your wings.
It’s not going to be a gang fight.
It won’t be violent.
They will come in inexplicable tenderness and mercy.
You will be rendered unconscious by their grace.

When you wake
Disheveled, stiff, flightless,
You will have gazed into
Their prescient eyes
And felt their unwavering hands.

This loss will be a fair exchange,

Touched by the constant
That is a measure
Of the soul.