Still catching up, this is another older poem from a story I wrote called "Anywhere Out of This World." This was the world-saving prayer at the end of the rather long story I hope to adapt someday to a real novel.
Since I'm reading C. S. Lewis' The Last Battle, this poem seems strangely fitting.
In the End the Angels Sing
Kingdoms crumble, rumors of war
Look to the east, the rising star
And wish not for an early sting
When in the end the Angels sing.
In triskele form, we take the three
The rose shall wilt, the Son will see
And fell the final death bells ring
When in the end the Angels sing?
In heather bed, where lovers lie,
When earthen circles fall and die
The King will take his silver ring
And in the end, the Angels sing
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