Sometimes I find my heart ripped, cut into pieces; I find myself tattered and torn.
But the distant touch of the gentle and sweet gives me the will to face the morn.
In faraway proximity, they remain close enough to show me signs of faith that last.
I am left in shock, awe, and reverence of the wisdom they carry from their past.

I have lived a life – half-empty, half-full – yet I’ve been blessed to know these souls.
God hath sent angels of his own very kin; in my life, they take on these roles.
They guard with the gentle reminder that they are always in touch, in time.
They show understanding and compassion for me, in spite of my every crime.

Time cannot help but to take its toll, but their purity could never be tainted.
In closeness, I find they cannot see the beauty of God in which they have been painted.
Time can take away so much faith, yet they remain steadfast and true.
In glimpses, I see beauty; in these eyes of mine, they are cast in an angel hue.

They are the spirit of humanity in darkness and light; in dire times and in strife.
They truly share goodwill, for all I know is they wish me a safe, fruitful life.
I was a sinner living the folly of youth; the past is something I cannot evade.
They show me grace, and they forgive me for the mistakes that I once made.

The intention of kindness they seek to share is truly an emblem of hope.
They show me symbols of faith when I am often at the end of my rope.
Divine inspiration is something they share; they are goodness in substance and form.
Profound and rare is the insight they bear; they are the eye in my storm.