The Showing

She came out of a shadow on the bedroom wall. Phem men-ing pheel ings, phore-tellings, wings under her pearlescent feet raven hair swirling about her face. You cannot see her face, but there is a face within her face, and you can see, it emerges and disappears, eyes cannot catch sight of it, but you recognize a similitude of yourself. Aghast you deny any mote of angelic divinity, and yet you are within her, and she is showing you yourself, as you cross a bridge between the two lobes of your brain. You are dragging a pair of heavy, clumsy wings behind your body, they are armor clad in a base metal. The angel fills you with wild innocent desires. Her seeking love writhes like a serpent around your body. Lips part within her nakedness She speaks: "Stand upright upon that arching span, let those heavy wings fall into the abyss below. Let go of any thought of both you and I. Fall. I will fall with you, all the way all the way all the way until we reach that empyrean sky, above all those who assume they are one bit lower, or one jot higher than any kind of holiness.