Trumpets were blown.
7 angels handing out their brass instruments.
Not for the Apocalypse.
But for the advent of an Angel.
Upon the seven blows.
The two doors of Heaven parted ways giving off a bright luminescence.
The clouds lined up in a cascade.
They seemed imploring the touch of divinity.
The illuminating scenery was soon lost to the incandescence of a silhouette.
From the mirage.
The silhouette seemed coming to life.
Jaws dropped in awe. Not at the scenery.
But at the beauty of the celestial being.
As nanoseconds changed into milliseconds.
The figure of the being was more and more visible.
As her right foot caressed the first cloud.
The latter illuminated with serenity and gave off a bright but soothing light.
I witnessed the descent of an angel to earth.
YOU ARE READING
Rhapsodic Memoirs
PoetryA tale of poetry, a pinch of melancholy and a glass of rhapsody.
