You see,
The first evidence we have
Of anything we could quantify
As being akin to surgery
Are fossil records
Of skulls baring marks
Which indicate tool usage.
These marks from simple holes
Driven into these skulls,
Likely made to try & deal with the mind
Or some ailment of the brain.
Thoughts, "evil spirits."

But, one must ask,
"From where did they get these ideas?"

The woodpecker?
The first surgeon?

leave no trace upon my mind
but fingerprints inside my heart
till I can feel your touch inside
falling straightaway apart

leave me here, but not alone
cause I can´t stand the silence
piercing deep into my bone
losing unrestrained my sense

leave no marks upon my skin
but scent and taste thereon
till I can treat you as my kin
till all my fear is gone

Why do I see angels
That no one else can see?
They look like people
Just like you and like me.
They are everywhere
I have ever chanced to go.
They work their magic secretly
So nobody else can know.

I see them helping people
With subtle acts of kindness
And don’t seem to suffer from
What is a common blindness.
They don’t look for rewards
Or the sound of public applause.
They share with generosity
And quietly work at their cause.

They don’t have wings
But they are angels nonetheless.
They fit the titled perfectly.
We really don’t have to guess.
I’m beginning to think
Maybe I should not even try
To figure this one out
For me to understand why.

Why do I see angels
That no one else can see?
They look like people
Just like you and like me.
They are everywhere
I have ever chanced to go.
They work their magic secretly
So nobody else can know.