A Dialectic 

Then again, no one knows for certain,
The way in which angels pray for humans.
Some propose their hands are clasped, but then
Others claim that their hands open up
Like butterfly wings and form a cup –
The better to catch us when we fall.

Gravity sticks us to the planet,
Insist the champions of science.
The soul has no mass, argue theists,
Our lives are kept on Earth alone
By cage constructed of flesh and bone;
The soul has flown, when we’re skeleton.

We seek protection of the Seraphs,
And ask the Lord to keep us from death,
But never was such a thingpromised.
But were we hollowed out like a bowl,
Of service upon this spinning ball,
Then each night we would fall up to God.