Fallen Ch. 28

Looking down again I see that at each of the seven intersections of the spokes of the wheel a figure is standing looking up. In the centre of the wheel an eighth figure is lying curled into the foetal position and is only barely visible through thick, oily black smoke.

A sound to my right causes me to raise my eyes again and I see another form, as large as I but dark where I am light, an angel with ebony fire in its eyes and black wings tipped with red spreading behind him; curving around the wheel to enclose one half of it in his span.

Turning my head to the other side I am shocked rigid. On the other side of the wheel, mirroring the dark angel and enfolding the other half of the wheel is a being that is so bright I can barely look at him. As well as the wings that are unfurled; brilliant white tipped with gold; two other sets are enfolded close to his body and I know that if he unfurls even one more set then I would not be able to look at him at all unless I wanted the very atoms of my being to turn to ash in a heat so great that just one glance would annihilate me in an instant.

Another sound; a slight change in the harmony of the choir, makes me look down and I see... I see... He is beautiful; more beautiful that anything I have ever seen. He is white and gold and blue and every colour in incandescent splendour while, at the same time, being no colour at all. His face is the same; his emerald eyes, as big as planets; as bright as super novas: and he is smiling.

Bridge is holding the wheel in his hand; raised over his head and he is staring upwards with a look of such peace and overwhelming love on his face that it brings tears to my eyes. The tears splash onto the centre of the wheel and, for a moment the shadows disperse, leaving the figure helpless; naked; cold; alone. Slowly the other figures begin to move along the spokes of the wheel towards the centre, but before they can reach the centre the smoke rises again to make an impenetrable barrier.

Once again the music changes and I raise my eyes for the last time. Beyond the fiery angels; the dark and the light; are a host of other forms: transparent; indistinct but there; undeniably there. Slowly they begin to move, flowing away from me, their music fading into the distance as they recede... and now there is silence.

For a heartbeat everything is poised and still and then I close my eyes as everything rushes towards me and I feel as if I am the centre of a whirlpool and the very fabric of reality funnels into me drawing me downwards until, suddenly, I feel the earth beneath my feet; the wind on my cheeks and I open my eyes.