Varieties of angels, like varieties of love, are many.

History dressed up in the glow of love’s kiss turned grief into beauty.

As life in general constituted much pain in the form of struggles against poverty, disease, ignorance, and emotional anguish, what more civilized way for people to alleviate the same than by giving themselves to one another as brothers and sisters in deed as well as in word? A society of people hoping to become politically superior needed first to become spiritually valid.

Where humanity sowed faith, hope, and unity, joy’s garden blossomed.

Death wins nothing here, gnawing wings that amputate–– then spread, lift up, fly.

The thorn is a bridge spanning the muddy depths of agony and sorrow so that one may on the other side dance to the drums of the rose of joy.

Whereas the insufficiency of a love neither sustained nor supreme cannot be ignored, the same should not be taken as cause to avoid one's total spiritual contractual engagement to this world.