The moment I awoke saw, in all her golden glory,

a woman with wings that seemed transparent under the white light

that reached far beyond what the eye could see.

It wouldn't be far fetched to say

that this place that resembled the feeling of swimming in feathers,

was like a pearl canvas yet to meet the right painter.

The Woman's wings were adorned with silk like feathers

elegantly shifting against the wind as she moved,

at times it was if she was floating.

She talked to me in a low smooth voice

I question if she were a woman or just a being with no need for specific gender.

She spoke to me in a casual but arrogant way

in a language I didn't understand as if she had known me longer then this split second dream.

She masked her face with a smile to hid the hint sadness she had

every time she snuck a glance at me.

Although I did not know her,

I wished to hold her in my embrace a

desperate and yearning attempt to keep her from drowning in her secret pain.

Moments paced before the woman flew away.

As the world disintegrated into dust she uttered the words 'bye my old friend'

her tears were the color of silver stained glass falling and

evaporating into thin air.

As I melted into the flashes of iridescent light engulfing my body like a blanket made from the

most ferocious storm cloud.

I could only sit there paralyzed,

as this winged personification of light,

The winged woman who moved with the grace of fallen feathers,

faded into the blue blurr of a horizon.

I lay in my bed,

tears streaming out of my eyes,

as the feeling of drowning in static filled honey

and laying in satin feathers brushing against my skin,

Lingering for a moment but invetibly fizzling away.

With only the fragmented memories of a bird as white as the clouds spreading its wings for its

last attempt at freedom.

I reveled in this the most ironic question:

"Why was I crying so heavily over a nightmare felt to be melancholy dream?"

And whilst I sit in my bed confused of why the tears won't stop flowing.

The very freedom seeking bird,

the winged woman made of clouds,

the personification of light that with the grace of fallen feathers,

Chuckled as she peered over me

watching me try to make sense of hidden emotions nowhere to be seen.

Cause what else does the archangel of light do

when her old friend the personification of secret emotion and intricate lies.

The archangel of hidden truths and gift wrapped nightmares,

struggles to identify her own feelings.

And as she laughs

her voice echo through the mountains

and shakes the earth.

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