Constructed of the finest brass,
polished daily with silken manes of angels,
to gleam brightest of all creation.
For the sun is but a reflection of the light of the Lord
beaming off my bell.
The stars; sparks thrown of forging hammers,
wielded by elders of the host,
while shaping me into being.
Each night, swaddled in plush clouds,
cherubs lay me away to the darkest recesses of the universe.
Still lingering reflection, that is the moon.
When Gabriel cradles me in his powerful, ancient hands
and lifts me to his angelic lips,
forcing through me breath of the whole of the four winds,
all of existence will give pause.
Exalted above all heavenly instruments, I,
the trumpet of trumpets
will on this glorious day for which I was forever groomed,
proudly announce the return of
The King of Kings.
Sounding forth as voice of the All Mighty,
I will joyfully call together the righteous to the throne;
neer to be heard again.
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014