Greetings from a distant world:
One where angels made descent
To let a mighty crest unfurl
On reconstructed battlement.

Dungeons flooded with despair
Were drained by cheerful angels' hands;
Mighty angels' patient care
Has cleared the road to promised lands.

Years ago, a shining knight,
The last there was, departed here,
Crusaded into foggy night,
Attempted to take on his fear.

As the mortar came undone
And crumbling stones began to fall,
The angels seemed to be a sun,
Their halos lighting up the walls

They shone bright beams in every nook,
Until the darkness cut their souls.
Despite their wounds, the care they took
Has mended almost every hole.

The crest is but the culmination:
Wings have fluttered long and hard;
The king has had to stem elation,
Waiting for the angels' guard.

The populace could not know much
While studying the king's new clothes,
Nor ever saw the angels' touch
On pauper writing lonely prose.

The pauper found he could be prince:
The angels' guidance set him free.
He's dreamt of angels ever since.
He knows they're you. You know he's me.