LETTER TO AN ANGEL
by Chrys Romeo
copyright Chrys Romeo 2018
You are not a body: you are a soul.
You are a soul who has a body.
It's important to understand that before you define yourself.
I thought this was going to be about me, but it's not: it's going to be
about you instead.
I don't want to mention myself here. I want to mention you.
I believe angels exist. And they're real.
I don't necessarily mean angels as a religious concept, but a more
universal and valuable one: for what is an angel? - a superior being with
such positive radiance that it outshines and changes reality, making
everything brighter, better. . and all this without a specific interest other
than the good itself.
everyone else, at a first glance. . but the deeper truth is that they are a lot
more than expected. Most of the time, they're anonymous and their deeds
don't get too much attention from the world. They go on doing selfless acts
of kindness and spreading that light of hope around them without claiming
glory or appreciation, because their most important purpose and focus is on
what they do. Their faces would pass unnoticed in a crowd, but their inner
light still shows in their eyes. They are serene and determined, they walk
among others as if underneath their feet there are soft clouds, not
pavement. Ascending to that level of living takes a lot of positive energy,
strong principles, willingness to do good without expecting something in
return. . and more than anything, a caring heart. Angels are able to feel..
and to make others feel as well. They have the power to extend the light of
their soul around them, to everything they touch.
Angels are not after material gain. They might need what everyone
go that extra mile to achieve something better: the unmeasurable good that
changes the world. It might not be a visible change in the entire world, most
of the time it's a definite change in a certain area of the world. . or in
someone's world anyway.
They don't always wear white or golden clothes: they appear in usual
outfits of many colors. Most of the time they aren't very glamorous. They
drive their cars, they walk their dogs, they clean their rooms, they make
their own sandwiches or coffee. And they do so much more for others: they
help, they heal, they comfort, they improve, they instruct, they redeem, they
save, they inspire – and they always care. Whatever they do, they do care. .
a little more than expected, a lot more than recognized.
Sometimes they have no name and they get lost in the tumult of the
crowd before one can even say thank you. Sometimes we don't even know
they are there, doing something for us that we're not even aware of. Yet
If you ever doubt you are an angel, ask me. I'll tell you that you are. I
know it. I've seen it: the light in your eyes that switches on the light of
reality into another perspective; the heavenly unearthly kindness that is so
rare and so immeasurably uplifting to encounter; a smile that can brighten
into spring the darkest coldest day of gray cloudy winter. . and the power to
change reality into a better universe.
I can't begin to describe you: there's too much to say and words are
not enough here.
A painting would not suffice to convey the totality of your presence,
what it means and how it affects the vision around you. Your soul is so
much more than can be shown or imagined: it can only be felt, understood,
admired and loved.
The beauty of your soul makes your body a moving reflection of your
inner intensity of sublime radiance, sometimes looking like the sparkling
I want to talk about you in a way that a painter creates the most
impressive sight, reaching out beyond reality, coloring a vision of the
invisible. I want to praise you in a way that a poet surpasses the meaning of
words and reaches to the mind of the reader with something inconceivable.
I wish I could describe you even though you're indescribable, just like a
wonderful phenomenon of a miracle – because that's what you are,
something that one can see clearly with the eyes of the heart.
If nobody praised you for everything you do, I will honor you right
here. If nobody ever applauded you, I will do it right now. If nobody told
you that you are an angel with a golden soul, I'm the one who can say it to
you a thousand times until you believe it. Although angels don't need praise,
applause or recognition for what they are, they still need to see the effects
of their presence on earth. And maybe they need to feel appreciated to keep
their light intensely bright.
give up being an angel just because sometimes it might seem easier to not
care so much, to not do so much and not be sure it's worth it. I know your
true nature will keep on shining, no matter what.. but even angels get tired
sometimes. Even angels have doubts. Even they can give up or fall from the
light of their own soul into earthly oblivion. I hope you remember my words
whenever you encounter that moment: it's better being an angel even if it's
harder. It's so rare and valuable.
What is more spectacular than finding an angel in the most unfamiliar
place, in the most desolate of times, in the most unexpected situation?
Because the contrasting view between a cold environment and a warm
angel can make one feel so alive and hopeful. It can light up everything. I'm
sure there were angels in times of war, on the front line, walking through
mud and explosives to pick up wounded soldiers. I'm sure there were angels
who brought water to slaves in immemorial ages, in dark times of history.
angels who rescued and offered shelter to abandoned children or animals
during storms. Wherever they were, whatever they did, they gave life a
It was an angel who made me feel I was not alone anymore in a time
when I had been.
Of course feeling so much love in an instant was inevitable and
irreversible. Can you imagine meeting someone for a short while and not
being able to ever forget them? The impact of the encounter with an angel
can be so impressive it lasts a lifetime. . and the paradox is, one can meet an
angel maybe just once in a lifetime. Sometimes the eternity of the light you
receive is so intense, once in a lifetime becomes like forever in a day.
I might not meet you again, but the memory and the awareness of
your existence still stay with me every day. The afterglow of your eyes
looking at me, the warmth of your smile brightening my mind cannot be
on a page.
Do you know? The moment I realized I was close to an angel, your
features started to become one with the light. The moment I could see your
soul I started to lose the sight of your face in my mind. I was so afraid I
would not remember what you look like, I started to search for you. I didn't
even know your name. I had only a scribbled note. . yet I was so determined
to find you, it took me three days of relentless search to finally recognize
your smile in a picture. I couldn't let you disappear from my life, even if I
knew our encounter might be short and unrepeatable.
Angels hide in the most unexpected people and appear at the most
unimagined times and places. If you were to think about the people around
you, the ones closest to you, the persons you know. . which ones would you
decide are actually angels? People are people, but sometimes people are
also angels. . and that is for sure. Now I know.
a mysterious supernatural arrangement of the universe? What do you
believe in, when you think about moments that seem out of the ordinary?
Are they inspiring like in the movies? It's been proven, life is more
surprising than the movies. . Do you think it was meant to be that the
moment you step out of the doorway you come across someone who had
just gotten off the bus to find you - right at the last second when it was
possible to meet? Do you know the last time I saw you we had arrived at
the exact same moment, but you were in your car, parking it while I was in
the moving tramway? Had I gotten off a station before I would have seen
your eyes and smile once more. Instead, I only saw the little white
automobile and your hands on the wheel: an angel looking for parking
space in a cold gray world.
It was one of those moments. Those movie-like moments arranged in
the mysterious universe, a coincidental setting of events that stay in one's
circumstances: it's a part of the power that surrounds them.
For what is this notion of the right time and the right place anyway,
other than what is necessary to be, to happen? You might be necessary for
a certain place in time. Your presence is essential to it.
If you're ever wondering why you're in a desolate place that doesn't
have your shiny radiance, if you ever feel stranded in a hostile environment,
remember that angels are sent in dark places to light them up and bring
them a hope of life.
Your presence could save a life somewhere. It could make a difference
when nothing else would. It could improve the direction of things in a way
you aren't even aware of.
You're an angel of light and you have that power.
What makes someone unforgettable? What is the spark that makes
someone recognizable anywhere, anytime?
Investigating through files and photographs to find an image of your
eyes I came across one picture that stopped time instantly. There it was, the
angel smile. However, the photograph belonged to another century. And
yet, I was more than certain it was you in that picture on the computer
screen. The unmistakably warm feeling of knowing it was you started to
erase the contours of the room around me. The meadow and the sunbeams
became vivid and undulating upon the walls.
I don't know how you had arrived in that timeless photo from another
century, but I was also instantly present in that meadow. The summer sun
was burning the dry grass of the yellow steppe from where I saw your
“They're torching the trees! Come on, let's stop them!”
The girl with hair like the steppe yellow grass had hawk feathers
knitted at the end of the locks and the horse was also wearing matching
feathers, both almost flying over the hills in a rush, followed by a bunch of
savage riders yelling battle shouts. I ran to the top of the hill, to look in the
distance: there seemed to be some small trees and a group of round tents
made of flax cloth that were already on fire. The riders led by the amazon
angel chased away the thieves who jumped on a steam train. I could
distinguish the moving iron wheels of the primitive train that dashed across
the dry steppe, followed by the feather-flying rider.
“Wait!” I shouted realizing it was no longer a painting in motion
that I was witnessing from outside – I was already part of the scenery,
I ran after the train, making a shortcut in a valley. I grabbed the metal
bar of the last wagon. The train was rather speeding like an ancient tractor,
so it wasn't hard to get hold of. I climbed the coal train. Wherever it was
going, I had to join the race, as long as you were there.
The white horse was galloping alone parallel with the steam train. I
got inside the wagon.
The moment I stepped inside, the temperature changed. It was
freezing cold. Through the open window snow flakes were flying asunder,
falling and forming a soft carpet on the floor. I looked outside: the steam
train was rushing through snowy rocky mountains. Its speed had increased.
It no longer looked like a wooden train: it had metal sliding doors, heavy
like those of freight trains during world wars.
“Oh, you're walking. Please go back to bed”, I heard a voice say.
I turned around. You had opened the door of the wagon and were
through-all sideway glance. I stared at the green outfit and the red cross
medical cap you were wearing. Then I realized I was only covered in a
For a moment, I just stood there speechless.
You turned and closed the door.
I looked around at the wooden stretcher that was probably the bed,
so I sat on it, wrapping the blanket around me. The snow flakes kept on
flying through the window as the train was swaying on the rails, cutting
through heaps of snow. I could see the steep high rocks of the mountains
rushing by, empty and silent.
I waited for you to return.
You came back: a calm angel followed by a nurse.
I hadn't noticed the bandages on my leg. I watched you as you
unfolded them with swift moves.
I looked at the wound: a war effect most probably. The bullet had torn
the muscles in depth. You cleaned the wound undisturbed. I watched your
hands move with ease: so delicate yet so firm and precise. There was a
certain finesse and charm in the warmth of your soft fingers with tough
“Everything looks good”, you said casually, as if to yourself.
I wondered if you were saying it for me.
“Give me a smaller gauze” you said to the nurse again.
There was something reassuring about your presence, so in charge
and yet so calm, drifting above the situation as if nothing unusual was
happening. I knew in that instant that the light of life was already filling the
wagon, just from your silent eyes: it was the power of an angel making
everything seem alright even in the most terrible of situations.
“He's the only one who doesn't scream when I change the
And then you looked at me and smiled, as you finished.
I smiled back.
“Thank you”, I said partly for taking care of me, partly because you
saw and appreciated something about me that nobody had noticed before.
It was as if you believed in me more than others. You made me
believe in myself at that moment, even if I didn't remember what I might
have done in the war or how I had arrived there. That light in your eyes was
the sign of an angel again.
At that moment the train jolted and stopped with a deafening whistle.
The nurse looked worried.
“What's the conductor doing?”
You remained calm. You seemed to know more even if you said less.
You left without explaining.
The nurse was set towards the door but immediately stopped when
I got out of bed, trying to reach the door. The nurse disagreed.
“You shouldn't get out of bed until your wound is better”, she told
me very convinced.
“What's happening? Why did the train stop?”
“There are many more patients we'll take with us across the border.
Until the war is over they're just going to keep on coming.”
“Where did the doctor go?”
“Doctor Seraphic will be back later. You must stay in your bed and
When I heard her say your name I knew it was another undeniable
sign of an angel. Who goes around being called “seraphic” anyway? Who
else than just an angel?.. I had no more doubts who I had met. It felt as if
the sky had opened a door and sent you through. The presence of an angel
can make time and place seem a simple, insignificant matter of
the fortunate side of life as long as you were there.
The door of the wagon was opened again and a tall man wearing
railway uniform called the nurse.
“Come, we need help. They're too many.”
I wondered if you had left the train.
I looked out the window: rows of stretchers were being carried inside
through the sliding doors.
In a while I heard the whistle of the siren and the wagons set their
wheels in motion on the metal rails. Four more stretchers with freshly
wounded men were brought in. I waited for a while then I got up and
started to walk along the train.
Looking for you from wagon to wagon wasn't easy. The train was
around, until the train entered a tunnel. Lights went out. It seemed like
years until the train emerged from the tunnel on the other side and halted
in the middle of nowhere. As light filled the wagons again I saw the train
had renewed its aspect once more: it was a steel electric train, with one of
those shiny arrow shaped locomotives.
It had stopped in a town. People were getting off, most of them
carrying briefcases as if from office work. There were no wounded soldiers
in sight. The station was swarming with many types of passengers: rich,
poor, fancy, extravagant, desperate or triumphant, agitated or resigned.
They were going in different directions. I watched them pass by, wondering
where I could see you in that crowd of strangers. The atmosphere of the
city was tense and implacable. Life was not easy for anyone - that seemed
obvious from the concerned faces and distant, lost in thoughts expressions.
The train was empty: I didn't see you anywhere. I looked at the buses,
big city was silent, hiding you so well. The huge dominant buildings were
solemnly guarding the large boulevards.
I had no choice but roam through the streets, hoping I could find a
trace of you somewhere: maybe fate would bring you back to me, lighting
up the unfamiliar town. “Where are you, angel?” I asked in my mind,
wondering if you could hear me. While I was passing by some huge
building I noticed an immense billboard advertising something about a
military institution. The face of the officer was similar to yours. The girl in
army uniform was saluting some slogan on the poster. I didn't understand
the words, they were in a language I didn't know. But I knew where I could
look for you: inside the building guarded by men in dark blue uniforms. I
picked a flier from the gate and pretended I wanted to enlist in the programme. So they let me inside.
You were the instructor in an isolated glass room, wearing
“Hi”, I said smiling because I knew you.
“Hi”, you smiled too and I was so happy you remembered me.
Your eyes filled with that irreplaceable light that could have been the
open horizon on a summer day by an emerald-azure sea, like the feeling of
freedom you get when you're far out on a yacht, away from the shore. The
warmth of that smile could have melted the stone walls of the solemn
building. I wanted to ask you if an angel was supposed to be a shooting
instructor. I wasn't surprised the amazon girl was capable of handling it. I
was sure there was a mission and a purpose to it.
“I'll show you how to be a secret agent”, you told me. “We're
preventing a nuclear disaster.”
Of course. Angels were meant to bring peace and save life in the most
I didn't ask what year it was. It didn't matter.
down below the center line.”
“How imminent is the nuclear conflict?”
“Not so imminent if we do something about it.”
And then you added with the same self-assured calmness:
“We won't shoot at people. We'll just neutralize the equipment that
endangers the planet.”
I watched you write down an address.
You gave me the paper.
“Be there tomorrow morning. It's a nuclear bunker.”
I found a hotel near the train station. The next morning I looked for
the address you gave me.
It was a building hidden outside of town, behind trees.
When I got there I found you leading many children to a secure
You knew I would wait for you to finish the task. You already knew very
well that I didn't mind waiting, as long as I could be near you, as long as I
had the promise that you wouldn't forget about me - and we would finally
have a moment together. Our encounters in different times and places made
us somehow trust each other implicitly. It was an invisible bond that had an
eternal, unquestionable and rewarding quality to it that surpassed apparent
circumstances. I could see your soul, whatever the environment we were
thrown in, I could feel you above and beyond anything else. The supreme
feeling of surreal, utmost importance was the glimmer in your eyes when
you smiled at me: the delightful, graceful, crazy feeling of being absolutely
sure I was happily, irremediably in love with you and the impact of that
sentiment was erasing everything, diminishing reality to a snow globe
shaken like a toy. Have you ever felt that overwhelming certainty, more
than the intense radiance of an atomic flash, that love is so powerful when
presence, or ever be able to forget you, after looking in your shiny eyes and
feeling your soul smile at me? You have the heavenly power of the universe.
It's not fair to measure it or try to match it with the tumult of time and hard
reality. It can never be surpassed.
“Where are you staying?” you asked me and your voice was so
kind, so different from the guns and sharp instruments around us.
“In a hotel near the train station.”
“Is there someone who came with you?”
“No. I'm by myself.”
“If anything happens, you can call me anytime. If you need
anything.. it doesn't matter when. Just know you're not alone. You can call
Now, who says that? Usually, nobody. Not real people anyway. Only
an angel can say that and mean it. Only angels are able to care so much –
I didn't call you. I had no reason to bother you by making the phone
ring. I was set to meet you soul to soul, beyond place and time, in a miraculous event. I didn't use the number. . not until much later – but I
took your words with me and they made every day so bright.. I got so much
happiness from them. Just the thought that I had the possibility to contact
you was a guiding light in the middle of nowhere. It was an invisible link to
unexpected, uplifting love.
I wondered if I deserved attention from such a high level of
brightness. . but angels don't care if someone deserves it or not. Angels
shine because that's what they are. You made me believe I was worth it,
that I deserved to call an angel if I needed it. You believed in me once again.
I started to believe in you and I never ceased to be amazed.
Some would say that angels are not amazons who chase thieves,
surgeons who cut flesh, agents who handle guns. Most people imagine
harp in a heavenly place, and appear in the air as spectral visions. Instead,
angels have the strength of life that makes them tougher, brighter and
capable of a higher understanding. The truth is that angels can be and do
anything. Their distinctive feature is that they feel - they care more than
ordinary people would. They react differently under certain circumstances
and they do things that ordinary people wouldn't. That is how they reveal
their true nature: when they go beyond what is expected and do something
extraordinary, just because they are pure golden light in their soul.
I hope you're never sorry for being kind. I hope you never regret
showing me you were an angel. I hope you don't hide it from this world,
because kindness is so needed around here. Your light can mean
everything, in a certain time and place, for someone's life.
“How do you feel?” you asked me when we were alone together.
“I feel much better than yesterday”, I said, because finding you was
It surprised me again that it mattered to you how I felt. It was a
graceful question that showed concern for my well being. Again, only an
angel would do that.
The next day I was supposed to meet you at the bunker.
When I arrived I saw you outside, climbing the wall of the building
which was hidden in steep rocks. I didn't know why you were climbing it
with ropes and tools, so I took the elevator to reach the top, thinking I could
wait for you on the roof. While I was in the lift, a blinding light covered
everything and the elevator paused.
I don't know if it was an atomic detonation somewhere. It could have
been just a surreal light erasing the boundaries of reality.
And then, suddenly, there you were: right in front of me. A bit
detached and silent, seriously thinking about something.
“You were late”, you said.
You chose to be forgiving.
“It doesn't matter. The important thing is that we found each
other”, you said and the meaning of your words made me deeply happy.
Again, it was something only an angel would have been able to say.
That statement was an eternal truth no circumstance could ever take away
from me – from us. .
I didn't ask if the atomic explosion had happened. I didn't question
the reason for the erasing light that changed the surroundings. I didn't even
wonder where we were. It didn't matter, as long as we were together.
You opened a door somewhere. I understood I had to go.
“I'll see you around”, I smiled because I was so sure I would see
you again, but you knew something that I didn't.
“Bye bye”, you said casually.
It wouldn't have helped me to know it was the last time I was talking
encounter was over. You knew that, but I didn't – and I wouldn't have
accepted it anyway. I didn't believe I would ever let you disappear from my
I didn't understand then that your purpose, your dreams and your
happiness might have been somewhere else. .
An angel might be needed in unpredictable times and places.
And there it was again, that white untamed horse, running freely
along a river of light, across the flow of seconds, hours, years and
The world didn't end that day when we last met.
Although it seemed unfair to acknowledge it, life went on without the
brightness and warmth of your amazing presence. Still, the afterglow of that
warmth wasn't completely gone: it stayed with me and came to mind
whenever the sky would become too dark and the surroundings too bleak. I
being near you and it would vanquish the harshness of reality. It was an
alternative truth that seemed more powerful than that. It was something I
knew existed, something I had lived: the vision of life seen from the
perspective of being near an angel. Things couldn't be too bad if you were
somewhere in the world. Sometimes I wondered if you were a dream from
another realm. It was getting distant from me day by day, but just the
thought of remembering what it felt like overpassed anything else. I knew
you couldn't stay by my side to share my mornings, my walks, my ideals,
my adventures, my discoveries or my story. . my soul could not be yours to
know. . and yet I wished it could have been possible. The hope against the
inevitable was immediately replaced by an irremediable certainty of missing
you forever. I couldn't give up thinking about you and wondering what you
The world didn't end that day: it went on to invent the first flying car.
The event was transmitted live around the world. A flying car would
be the solution for a lot of problems, including traffic jams, accidents, fuel
shortage and expensive transportation. So it was considered a big deal.
However, the world wasn't sure it would work out safely. I watched the live
transmission: the daring pilot who had volunteered to test it was a girl in a
driver's suit wearing sunglasses. I stared at the image: the second before
you put your helmet on I got a glimpse of your smile. It made sense for you
to change the world. You took the seat behind the wheel of the transparent
vehicle with great enthusiasm. You seemed so eager to fly – to make the
world fly with you.
I knew the experiment would be a success because an angel was
Do I go looking for you now? Am I going to chase an angel around the
world, through centuries and different places? If I knew there was a chance
for me to find you for more than a brief moment, to keep you around in my
life, maybe I would stand up and do something more than simply write a
letter for you. If I had invisible wings, I would be there.
As it is, I know very well what my chances are, so I decided to write.
I needed to have this. An unanswered question would be why I
needed an angel to appear in my life - who am I that I had to encounter an
angel in a certain moment? Although I don't want to talk about myself, I
may have to explain a little.
I could be anything, anyone. You don't know much about me anyway.
Why am I the one who can see angels where others don't? Why did I have
higher level of perception?
Looking deeper into the meaning of things has been my constant
concern and preoccupation, ever since I came into this world. I've always
known there's more to life than what appears to be – just because I myself
was born to be more than a changing image. I've always felt a connection
with a higher vision. It made me believe that reality expands like a waterfall,
hiding a source of light, and the only effect we feel is of cold water. Opening
our eyes could let us see the sun reflected in the transparent flow, beyond it
And yet, how do you open your eyes into a waterfall? It's hard to
believe in something brighter, higher or absolutely pure when everything
you see is the harsh truth of an unjust world.
But to me, it seemed vital and imperative to find that essential
meaning, the strength of a brighter light beyond the apparent scenery.
Who I am could be a long story and I'm not sure you want - or need -
to know. Maybe some other time, I will elaborate on that subject – but not
now and not here anyway.
It doesn't matter who I am: my message is more important than my
identity. And that is probably the truth of angels being real: their
If I didn't say it clear enough, convincing enough or my message
didn't get it right, it's also up to you, how you understand it.. what you see
in it and why you might need it too.
After all, I just started this letter because I wanted to say something to
you. It's not because things were left unfinished and so much unsaid
between us, at least according to how I feel. It's not because I didn't say
good bye: I don't intend to say that to you. I don't want to. And it's not
because I expected to get an answer from you: who can answer such a long
I thought, if I could only make you smile once, then I'd win. If I could
just reach your soul, across the distance, beyond reality, despite the
obstacles and the people who would not understand, if I could only take
you to that level where we can still have a connection, if my words could
mean something to you, if I could show you something you didn't expect or
imagine, it wouldn't be in vain. I wanted to give you something similar to
what your presence offered me: comfort, shiny happiness, kindness and
belief that goes beyond reality. If you smiled, if you felt something while
reading this from someone you don't completely know, if you started to
believe in yourself as an angel, then my wish for this letter was
accomplished. If you never forget your invisible wings, I achieve so much
more by writing this. .
Who knows, maybe in the indistinguishable mysterious balance of
things I was also sent to you so you don't forget you are an angel. Maybe
across on your way. I'd like to believe that I'm more than an insignificant
detail in your life: I'd like to think I can do something for you. Maybe the
answer is in this letter.
I cannot claim you as my own, even if I'd like to say I saw you first, it
might not be so. Even if I might imagine I'm the one, more than anyone else,
who sees the beauty of your wings in their breathtaking splendor, I'm sure
there are others, better than me, who can make you shine and remain an
angel as well. I'm very certain you may have your own inspiration
somewhere better, that you are free to find strength and happiness in
places I'm not a part of.
It doesn't matter if what I am is not included in your journey, not
more than it already happened. It doesn't matter if I wish I could have been
the one to fly by your side: you deserve the universe to open a box of gifted
miracles and let you choose which one you like best.. I just know I'm not
can only write this letter: shape the most unimagined thoughts into words. I
guess if anyone can reach an angel with a letter, it should be me.
I like to think I was chosen to be the sky messenger, the bearer of
higher knowledge, the bringer of surreal visions and revelations that would
make everything better, that would move souls and create beliefs. It
remains to be seen if I can at least send a message to the sky.
For now, I must see how I'm gonna send this letter to you. How do
you mail a letter to an angel? Throw it out the window on paper wings? Tie
it with a golden string on the feet of a pigeon? Climb a tree and read it out
loud to the fluffy clouds? I don't know. . How about we meet and I read it to
you? Do you think you'd find the time to listen? Maybe you would, but I
wouldn't find the words: I'd most certainly be speechless in your presence.
It's probably better this way.
This letter carries a portrait of your soul. It also has the imprint of
belongs to you.
And you must be free.
I must release you to the world and to the sky, let you go where you
have to go and where you are needed, because that's what angels do. .
Have a nice flight.