I find the bridging of perfection in the closeness in the space between cells.
The distant touch of God in the Hands of His Angels deigns to rest upon me.
To have been shaped by the Sculptors of the Heavens Above fills this spirit with swells.
To have been shaped by the Souls filled with the Light of God makes it a blessing to be.
The reality of pain grows and lives to be robbed by the slight of Holy Hands.
The reality of what it is to receive providence in health is something to contemplate.
That which I owe for that which I have taken is the heart of my life and soul, as it stands.
Tamed grow the fires that burn from the torture of time and age, which they do abate.

In Light, they hath come from Celestial Spheres to harness the shape of this fate.
In Goodness and Kindness, Healing Hands soothe pains with the Spirit of Compassion.
In the folly of ignorance, cognizance of Their Gift of Grace comes not too soon and far too late.
In my earthly unholiness, I live yet with the blessing of health from Angels in Creation.
Tempered in substance, they blaze with the radiance like that of a perfect gem.
O, the blessing it cannot help but to be to be shaped in Creation by them.