In this angelic season, old men dream dreams of being heroes: rescuing maidens in distress, defending the defenseless, seeking shelter, making a run for the border.
What should be packed for the journey? How much water for the wilderness? What kind of weapons? Where is Egypt, exactly?
angels we have heard on high Are there songs strong enough to wear for protection? Can we cover our young with dark hoods of peace or swaddle them in safety as they leave their father’s house, as they make their way to school?
The problem with dream directions Is the blurring of the lines, or eyes, or reasons. Why this child and not others? Why not many instead of one?
And ever o’re its Babel sounds the blessed angels sing What was Lincoln thinking?* Bitter would be better. We need avenging angels in this uncivil war. God, Guns, and Guts make this country something other than... one nation undivided. * ”Angels of our better nature” was used by Lincoln in his First Inaugural Address at the start of the Civil War.
The impossible dream the improbable song And ye, beneath life’s crushing load Whose forms are bending low, Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow, Look now! For glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing. O rest beside the weary road, And hear the angels sing.
To all determined dreamers, then, all true believers in the rumor of angels or humans of a better nature, to every one who hopes to be a child of God a piece of advice:.
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