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by Chrys Romeo

copyright Chrys Romeo 2018


An Angel of Light

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.


They are a higher level of beings. Of course, they're human just like

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


needs, but they don't make it their priority. They are special because they

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


they exist.

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


tremor of the sun on water: a clear expression of brightness.

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.


I hope you don't forget that you are an angel. I hope you don't ever

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.


I'm very sure there were angels who showed the way to lost travelers, and

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


erased. I almost believe an angel can read thoughts and feelings like words

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.


Do you believe in fate? In coincidence? In things “meant to be”? In

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


mind as a fragment of destiny. As only angels seem to appear in miraculous

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.


The Time Rider

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


silhouette riding a fast untamed horse in a race against seconds, a revolutionary amazon whose words whistled above the hills with sharp


“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,


watching as you were fading in the distance.

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


standing there, looking at me with that wise thoughtful and mysterious see-

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.


“Iodine” you told the nurse.

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


bandages”, you said to the nurse in a language I could hardly understand.

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


she saw me standing up.

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


circumstance. . I could have been anywhere anytime, but I knew I was on

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.”

“Right away.”

They left.

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


crowded and nobody knew where doctor Seraphic could be. I kept asking

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,


tramways, taxis and other vehicles that filled the place and the streets. The

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


headphones and shooting a concentric cardboard target.

“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

unexpected conditions.

I didn't ask what year it was. It didn't matter.


“Hold this gun. Keep it straight, aim it ahead of you. Don't let it go

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

underground shelter.


You saw me and seemed to smile to yourself, but didn't say anything.

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


an angel looks into your eyes? How could I not have loved your unique

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 –


enough to not let you feel alone on the brink of an atomic imminent danger.

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


angels as ethereal fragile creatures who are meant only to sing or play the

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


enlightening me with overwhelming happiness.

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.


“I'm sorry. I didn't know I should have come earlier.”

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


to you – the last time I was so close to you. Somehow, something from our

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

centuries. .

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


would only have to think of you, the freedom and the absolute happiness of

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

were doing.

The world didn't end that day: it went on to invent the first flying car.


The prototype was considered the salvation of global atmosphere from pollution because it functioned on electricity and sunlight.

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



Invisible Wings

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


such significant encounters with an angel? Why do I have access to that

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 above.

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.


It's because of who I am.

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

undeniable existence.

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


somehow you needed me too. . as an unexpected surprise you had to come

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


going to be the one to do that for you. I don't have that power. Right now, I

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


your fingers, the warmth of your smile, the total brightness of your eyes. It

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.


. .


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