Gabriel's Tears

The real angel wept at his impostor's grave audacity, and sepulchre clouds gave deluge birth to the acid of his eyes. The downpour teemed relentless, punishing soil and battered leaves, drilling earthworms in their coffins to consume what therein lies. Then the monuments gave voice to his anguish gaping mouthed, forged of marble, moss and lichen as vines in each crevice crept. He bowed beaten by her poetry, the Spanish of her smiles, and the sharp yet sleepy beauty of her soul windows whilst she slept. The real angel wept and in his weeping did acknowledge that this goddess he revered was to him both Heaven and Hell. He discharged lightning forks of prayers in the hope she would conduct them, and in electrified accord feel the same for him as well.