The Angel and the Candlestickmaker

The angel sat on a cloud and looked below.  The world was teeming with activity, people shoving into one another, clamoring to find things for the season ahead, butting heads and getting angry, forgetting all about caring for one another.  He looked above and saw more clouds, obscuring the vastness of space that spread out beyond them.  Somewhere, maybe just an idea he'd had earlier that day, was Heaven, where the Candlestickmaker waited patiently.  The angel was due to give a report on what he saw, but couldn't find the words.  It wasn't that he didn't know what to say, but that he didn't know how to say it, and he was afraid that he wouldn't do it justice, and that if he couldn't do that, then he would fail both those he watched and the Candlestickmaker.  He didn't want to do that.  And so instead he kept watching, waiting for things to make sense.