That is grandpa. RIP. October 1, 1919 - December 26, 2005.
I wrote this at 2 AM after the funeral yesterday:
The Human Angel (er...ignore the stupid title)
by ECN (of course)
He sits and stares at nothing at all,
His wings long burnt, now bleeding from the fall.
The cuts on his wrists bleed silver and gold,
Yet his numb heart no longer feels the cold.
Unaware to those around,
Only searching for what cannot be found,
Nothing knowing it lies withing himself
Because he's always doubted what he's felt.
No long reaching for the sky,
He holds his head and wants to cry.
But God will grant him no tears,
And has only planted all-consuming fears.
Just and merciful though He claims to be,
he looks upon this fallen angel and cannot see
That all he wanted was to feel the light
And He will not give him the right
To turn his head and finally view
What he always suspected and always knew:
That though we are all lost and confused,
That though we are all beaten and abused,
There is someone who can warm his heart,
Someone who was put here to do their part
In saving the soul of the one they love;
That not everything divine comes from the above.
It matters not if it's woman or man,
It matters only if they can
Take him in their arms and make him feel alright,
That somehow he he cannot and must not lose sight.
And though he was cast aside,
There is a voice lingering inside
Begging to be let free.
A voice that could, somehow, possibly
Make it all worth living for,
Telling him to stick around and see what's in store.
Because God is faith and faith is love
And that...will always be just enough.
...eh. *shrugs*
