Regarding Angels ~
Angels Are Everywhere ~ In Memory of Loved Ones
What you call good energy when it comes to you is entirely personal.
ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND ANGELS Certainly, the time has come for the angels to appear, falling to earth by the thousands, the ten and hundred-thousand no announcement no battle cry no trumpet’s call just – angels, angels everywhere. And what will we say on this day of awakening? Will we know that they’ve been chosen to deliver us from our secret sins and fears, to cry our tears, to cleanse and free us all? Many of us will suffer great confusion – having no knowledge of our own Divinity, we’ve hidden and cursed our true identities. And yet, just wait – when we see those tears streaming down their faces, we’ll step gladly into the beckoning waterfall; we’ll shed our masks, our lies, our self-denials and simply drown ourselves in the overwhelming love of one hundred thousand angels. Diane Randall ~ She of the Dreaming Sky Diane is a Sarasota poet, author, dream interpreter, spirit communicator, meditation guide, and tarot card reader. Diane says: “Angels have always assisted me in guidance and protection, sometimes in the physical realm. I am truly grateful for their help, comfort, and interventions in all areas of my life."
I Am an Angel
Sometimes in my dreams I am an angel.
No one knows it and
I find it almost impossible to believe.
I feel compelled to look deeper and deeper
in my heart. Opening one door after the other.
Sometimes I am lost and have only the sound
of the river to guide me. I wish I could walk with you
and together we would find our way.
I admire you but sometimes I think
you don’t even see me.
~ Scyllastrangefire ~
SNOW ANGELS I was six. No, five, I was five: my first snow. I remember the angel suddenly coming together and then bleeding out beneath me like I was turning myself inside out, and then I remember awakening to a white field, because the angels were always a surprise to me, the way they kept falling in such peculiar positions, like someone screaming, or dying. Like the wings. Friends would take me aside, tell me the wings were a bit too much: Like a Babylonian lion’s, really. Those wings, they’d say. They were right of course, but what could I say to them except I couldn’t help it, that my arms always moved up and down like that whenever I fell out of heaven. Sometimes I felt like telling them maybe it would help if they thought of the angels as small relief-maps of my soul, sudden, uncontrolled curdlings that occurred whenever I stopped, opened myself to the sun, or the moon. And then there were times I didn’t know what to say, except maybe they should think of the angels as detailed descriptions of another life. A life I was living but knew nothing about. Justin Spring ~ Talkies
