Do angels people this world, on the wings of smallest breeze, riding buoyant waves, floating fluffy clouds on a warm summer day? everywhere, all the time, knowing, caring, waiting to alight into our hearts, listening for the silent screams of the forsaken, bereft, alone? Surely these angels are our ancestors- not just our forefathers, but predecessors of the entire human race, and they await with a smile, for that moment when we are ready, to awaken our intellect, illuminate our heart and enlighten our soul, with a ray of sunbeam on a morning's first dew, or a melody, pure and clear, or a smile of innocence and goodness of heart...the angels wings so brush our lives and all is again radiance, all is again joy.
Today, an angel descended into my heart-an angel brushed my life again with gold and color, an angel reminded me once again that the magic and mystery are still parts of life - but only a life alive to it.
She was my angel's messenger-Yoana Strateva, a small figure of advancing age, bright burgundy hair under the stage lights, nondescript, remote, distant, a violinist of fame from Bulgaria. She carelessly held her violin, and with a nod to her piano accompanist, began-the first clear notes rushed out to fill the hall with a hush- notes of incredible virtuosity and spirit-moving with the spirit of the composer, her master, her angel, playing notes-long, clear, hurtful-penetrating the hard shells built around our hearts - penetrating deeper, till the music was within me- all of me. Closed eyes, a life aware, levitating, higher and higher, afloat on the wings of her angel, my angel-magic of Beinsa Duono reaching out across time, space, race to make him- a stranger till now- also mine.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment