Day 2: The Working - A Scrying - A dethrone

~ Come, my hands extend, do you see? I am Michael, flown bridge, light, I will help you with my sight hid night.

How do I know you are Michael hands sown greet? My sight detects a new entry soldered sight light?

~ My hands are always sowed with light, yet my uplook grim, and my hands now two visions you see, in your sight detect to trim?

I see the visions, one hand in sight, and a being, his chin held in confusion tight, or is it drifted in uphill fight?

~ You see three visions now, folded kite, my hand in breath, my head confusion another hand tight, and another no hands, and my head uphill found with light

Now what?

~ I will guide the working in lighting pair, you see the hand, flashing, and the vision once in wear, and you see the sight, my chin, in questioning tear?

I see you are worried lacking fame, your eyes are sorrow, do lift the eyes, your shame, my voice now lifted a grain in question tame?

~ You see my wear, my tear to pair, the eyes are not comforting, in sorrow’s flair there.

What have you, Michael, to give me with sight - I want proof in continuation sold light night, and a bridge to seam, in day bright sight, to shoulder proof, on your mission, your kite.

~ You see the night has tilted grain shame, my mercy is two eyes, bloodied, with stem.

Those are my eyes, you fool, do not show me eyes, with tilted wars, your passages, your shame hid light on I, hid sight. I need a physical angel hid night, as bright as sight, not my own ware, to lift, in guidance gleaned, your war, is not mine, or my hands sowed with your seam.

~ I see, hold the sight yours and the dagger hurt cures, and I will tailor the sight continuation night floors.

You move tight sealing to ceiling tight miss, you think those cures, are I hid night, to anger what throne, do pair it with my sight..

~ The end is the beginning, your hands are yours, yet ceiling sealings, what cures, hid tore wars?

You said you could shape the night as life, using sight, your sword, your rememberance hid tight?

~ You see, I on the throne so eager kept, the sword drifting on the heart crept slept, or do you see, the throne one hand the left, held light, and the sword on the crown to my sight crept net? Or do you see my two hands flown high in loft, to the crown and heart, together sown flept?

I see these visions parting last, yet one, is just yours, the others, just sown greetings, your sight my first long test sight, first question tight night last. Show me something not visions with loft, your guidance, is not I, but your sword, hidden eyes crop theft soft. That if you wish to show me a weapon of war, then show me your eyes, with the weapon guided instructions light tore, on my chest to seam, so old with fight, that you thought you could tailor your night with confusion light sack test tight?

~ My hands are empty, confusion tilted fame, that you know my seam, is just kindness held tame

That is fine Michael, your bowl, is a kind greetings held night, to your sorrow hid sight. What have thee in sowing seams, lit team, or just one rememberance hid light night?

~ Who are you? A question hid pry? To answer a call, of an angel hid cry? Or ask in rememberances another throne lit cold, to anger, his eyes, steaming scald forewarned fold?

Angel, your chuckle eyes lit nightmare stare, your eyes, are they paired with kindness rare, or do you wish to train me in the sight as night, not a chuckle on an angel disarmed with sight?