I feel angels all about me now, without
a touch of fear to foul their loving
atmosphere. A glowing tone of harmony
becomes the nearness of all space that
endlessly arrives without a glimpse of its
departure. A cloud falls down, surrounding
me within a heavy mist of moisture, pregnant
with impending nourishment of springtime rain.
Birdsong drifts so sweetly from a nest
where nestling is everything.

It moves too swiftly in a pause, developing
transparently this vision of perception - so far
advanced beyond the mindlessness of time
and linear thought, that logically unfolds
itself back into a nothingness again. Questions
coming, answers fleeing – there just out of
reach. Where, if only for one pure and utter
moment, we were to set the question free,
all the answers might then find the room to
breathe there being into us.

Pristine, this touch of insolidity: where clarity
of vision takes a chanceless glance into
invisibility; and mists become a drift of
timelessness – forming a reality of angels’
arms, awaiting just your opening, to caress
all flesh in tenderness again.

Just then an angel spoke aloud, within one
mind receptive: "Fear not these endless feelings
of your opening into a death divine – for life
awaits you fully there, just past that point of
the death of disillusionment. Allow yourself
just this propensity – to be reborn eternally
right now.

Do not be surprised when an endless longing
carries you away from all you have attained;
attainment is no longer necessary here, for
you possess it all without a trace of that
possessiveness drawn near – the stars,
the moon, the galaxy; the splendor of each
vast and earthly horizon, where the sun
arises in a continuance of setting, reaching up
and settling down, vision of invisibility – yet still
you see it all in this one moment of eternal
verity – free of the illusions of all fear.

We hold you now, so gently with our wings,
that your pain will never enter in again."

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .