Angels are growing in that farmers land.
I asked him where he gets the seeds from,
and how the angels grow in the land of waste; breathing our life, humanising with no wings, no miraculous power, no dreams, just seeking love, sewing pain on their soft skin and tears in their eyes, replacing healing scars with new ones, disguising among us, blending in our fabric, trying to survive humanity, crossing the bridge of love towards a new heaven, a new god.