Humans stood higher than skyscrapers, As the Breathing dead accepted their fate. Two held hands in an image of love, Angels were crying watching above, As they jumped, From an inferno of hate. Broken hearts searched for broken bodies, Yet spirits remained intact. The dead refused to go straight to God, So between them they made a pact. They flapped their wings to banish the smoke, Yet it wasn't just that which was making people choke. In a claret sky a cumulus cloud drifted by, Probably an Angel on his way to heaven refusing to die. Or maybe just a cloud after all, That arrived too late to soften the lovers fall. The face of Osama's beard heading east on a cirrus cloud, Extremists chanting the Koran cheering aloud. How could they cheer the slaughter of innocent children, Buried alive in mortar cots of crimson. I hope those lovers holding hands that fell, Are watching down on us as Gods Sentinel. For that image of love will never sleep, So I will not let the perpetrators, Who live to hate us, see me weep.