true existence

surrounded by the forest-
by the trees and by the light
with angels singing overhead
in euphoric delight.

the grasses sway together
in the early morning sun
in worlds chained by Spirit
forever passing one.

the crown did not fall
from the flaming Head of Man
to crash an indifferent world
with a pre-existant plan...

who is like a Bridge
of a spirit and of earth?
in the depths of realism
to illusionary worth?

who can find the angels
in the ever clouding mist
to create an art of Real
where only you exist?