We called ourselves the angels

Because who were we to say

We weren’t made of light,

And so we waded on

This thick substance called air,

Our movements akin to a

Heart that beats slower each time.

Gravity pulled us closer, until

We lost faith in who we were.

Now traffic lights guide us more

Than intuition or those

Symbols that come at night,

In their eyes only the red-green

Reflects,  like machines

We are ghosts

Each and every one of us

Praying there shines a light