The angels sit with halos dim, Their wings a faded, brittle whim. They smoke beneath a hollow sky, Exhaling dreams that never fly.

They used to sing of love and light, Now they just laugh at endless night. "God’s gone, and so’s the charm," They say, "We’ve learned to keep our calm."

Ash falls like stars that used to glow, Burned out before they’d ever show. The world below? A distant sound, To angels, silence wears the crown.

They puff, they sigh, with hearts grown cold, Too wise to care, too tired to scold. The smoke curls up in twisted grace, A memory of a forgotten place.

For even heaven has its flaws, And angels? They’re just stuck in pause. So here they sit, and here they’ll stay, Counting ashes, lost in play. NNN