Singing Angels Lifted On Wings To The Skies Poem by Mark Heathcote

Lord, everybody needs a commune
And not just a place to call their own
A place to gather like hungry bees
A place altogether they'll call home.

Lord, everybody needs a Noah's Ark-
When their stars, their dreams sink
Deep below the watermark of help
When every friend falls out of sync.

Lord, everybody needs a helping hand-
Someone to rip down the blinds
When nought but a box of emptiness cries
Lord, we all need birds singing,
Singing angels lifted on wings to the skies.

Listless, wings lord are all our heavens.