3 angels
I met Him where the wires hum, behind the chapel door, where dust was dancing in the sun like angels on the floor. He didn’t wear a crown of fire, He didn’t speak in thunder; He sounded like a tired man who’d misplaced all his wonder. I said, “Are You the Lord of hosts, or just some echo in the fog?” He said, “Son, I’m only what remains— the ghost of God.” Chorus And I’ve been talking to the ghost of God, through a cracked and silver sky. He says heaven lost its address, and the saints forgot to fly. I asked Him for a sign of love, He gave me rain and nods. Now I spend my nights in conversation with the ghost of God. He told me He had watched us build our temples out of fear, then sell the keys to paradise to anyone who’d hear. He said, “I left no golden book, no sword, no final law. Just a candle in the ribcage and a hunger in the jaw.” I said, “Then why do children suffer? Why do good men crawl?” He turned His face toward nothing and said, “I don’t know it all.” Chorus And I’ve been ...