An angel whose halo shone as bright as the sun.
And who emanated clarity as the moon.
Her golden feathered wing provided a soothing breeze.
Her feet were seemed to be made of crystal.
Thin and fragile crystal.
Crystals which upon the slightest newton might perish.
Her hands wavered through the screen of the wind.
Fondling her fingers between the tresses of that same wind.
This scenery could have been related to the wind blowing through fields only if she did not radiate divinity.
Instead of dissipating in the horizon, her grace was omnipresent.
She stood on her cloud stairs.
She stood in grace.
Up from there her vision would resplendence beatitude.
Her eyes shiny as pearls.
Shiny as gems.
They would see what nobody saw.
They would see purity in this torn world.
They would see love.
Her face was nothing like a mundane being.
YOU ARE READING
Rhapsodic Memoirs
PoezieA tale of poetry, a pinch of melancholy and a glass of rhapsody.
