There has never been a title for this...

Crystal radience reflecting in the spectrum of the Celestial Heavens.
An unearthly chours of bitter sweet angels crying angst inflicted praises upon an unsuspecting world of onlookers.
Each head held high in exhaltation.
Each pious heart frozen in time and space, awaiting the heavenly cadence to fall from outstreched hands.
Each subtle melody fortelling the sorrow of such sweet tribulation, of destruction, of recreation; of bliss most intangible.
Pity to those who hear the music with def ears; who shy away from the vision.
Salvation is but a song away.
And when Dawn has passed and Twilight time has moved on; then will come Midnight spread across the sad horizon.
Til the Choir sings again, and Resurection will be their song.