Angel, Star & Child

Take me to the perfect place in time and space where a lost soul needs my help today ...

Rushing, spinning, travelling far, travelling fast to distant shores and times well spent, an empty bank account of time, there is no time now, time has left and we are all alone ...

Without time, there is no land.

Without time, there is no space.

Without time, there is nothing, or so it seems, but then, there's something, has to be, because we're here.

It feels like the waves of an ocean, huge heaving waves that don't move forward, simply heave to, up and down, side to side, left to right, no progress, no evolution, these waves will never crest or fall, will never grace a shore, will never wander around a world, they simply stand and heave, a most disconcerting sensation that takes away many things, but hope is high on a list of that which isn't here, very high indeed.

I am a soul pilot.

I am here to find a soul.

The waves are immaterial and now I see beyond, there is a soul indeed, all lifeless does it flow and roll within the waves, shows no resistance yet it is so beautiful and pale. I move towards it, straight through the waves which are in truth, quite immaterial and gather the soul to me, hold it in my arms just like a groom would carry his bride across the threshold, into life anew; the soul is light and silky smooth, it doesn't sigh or smile, it is a flowing fabric woven light.

And here I come aware of its great beauty and how precious is what I am holding in my arms, what I am drawing to myself to give it warmth, to give it love, protect it in all ways I have to offer, a loving I become, a craft and so I take us down and out; I simply let us fall for we don't belong here, and nature will take its course with us if we just let it be.

Gently I land in white sands beneath a starry sky and the white soul in my arms is a child. It is asleep and wrapped in finest silk that shimmers starlight; pure and perfect all in every way.

I lay the child into the soft white sand with gentleness and care, then I step back, and back, and further back, and then I wait.

There is a rushing in the sky as thousand angels come, streaming down they come like giant birds and spiral circle all about the sleeping child; and soon enough, it is a light that rises up in a clear central space prescribed by angel patterns, angel paths and up they go and higher, higher, until I cannot know now who is angel, star and child.