A Meeting With An Angel

January 21, 2010
By Anonymous

A luminous, silvery-golden outline around her supple and slender frame is
Visible even in the darkest of night.
Hard and angular, yet as smoothly animated as a small child.
She dominates the sky as first ray of sunlight to ascend above the horizon at dawn,
And the last to float below it at dusk.
Her hair, resplendently golden brown, with curls and wisps blooming and dancing, like spider’s silk in a breeze.
Her angelic call, soft and airy, dulcet with care.
Her skin, soothingly fluid and satiny, radiates raw, hot, unimaginable power,
Complemented by a serene roseate complexion.
Innately nymphic in nature, she flits about with the wings of a linnet.
Her essence blinds the eyes, subdues the tongue, and leaves a fine mist over the consciousness.
I continue to watch her.
My eyes behold her ravishing facial features, unblinking.
Seeming to sense my stare, she turns to look at me.
Her sharp, paralyzing, brown eyed gaze pierces my skull, melts away any psychological defenses, and strides cleanly into my mind.
Systems crash.
Signals to all but the most necessary body functions weaken, then dissipate.
Neurons wage internecine war.
Grayish-pink flesh burns.
My vision blurs.
I slip into semi-consciousness.
I now see a shady silhouette.
Inside that silhouette oscillates all the colors in the visible spectrum.
The spectacle scorches my retinas, yet I can still see her, plain as day.
Towards the center lies a spherical core of dazzling white energy.
Suddenly, searing pain envelopes my head!
I claw and pinch at my own skull, begging, pleading with myself for the agony to cease.
I shake with vehement passion, and rapturous, sensual ecstasy.
It stops.
I return to my normal state, eyes downcast, to find that the source of sudden alleviation from my extreme anguish and torment,
Is nothing more than a hand, her hand, gently placed upon my forearm.
I look up.
A compassionate smile draws across her face, from cheek to cheek.

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