Messengers by Aphir

this is how I think of you:
an angel's tears burn through the roof
and you below, in self-defence,
have held your hopes out at arm's length

I guess I haven't known you long
so please correct me if I'm wrong:
give lie your claim we can't read minds
and take my hand, look into mine

I have seen them come and go:
sweet messengers and watchful thrones
moving softly toward a place of war - can effort slow their pace?

this is how I think of you:
a question raised all shining new.
and will the answer disabuse me of the dream that I can choose?