In the stillness of headstones,
Darkness is my blanket.
And forever is my song.
In the arms if stone angels, I'm not afraid.
Because finally and completely,
I belong.

Darkness as well as light. Or do I mean darkness, another kind of light? Lucifer would say so, and I have a weakness for fallen angels.

We are all angels with only one wing, only when we come together can we fly.

I don't believe in angels, no. . . . But I do have a wee parking angel. It's on my dashboard and you wind it up. The wings flap and it's supposed to give you a parking space. It's worked so far.

The gaurdian angels of life sometimes fly so high as to be beyond our sight, but they are always looking down upon us.

Iron Jawed Angels.