The soul waits for its flight,

With wings, ready to burst into full flight,

Poised to assent,

When the noble soul can stand no more,

The great deeds and deep faith, count no more,

When time draws short for the weary,

Upward, it urges, impatient, time to go can not come quickly enough,

Yet, all to sadly, the time will come,

The wings of a young angel will spread to dry in the light of heaven,

Soon, it will be home,

With widespread wings,

The angel flies, taking no look backwards towards its former self,

It makes its assent homewards,

The journey all must make,

Unless the soul is wicked,

And well then,

It is a different story.