“No, I never saw an angel, but it is irrelevant whether I saw one or not. I feel their presence around me.”
Embraced by winged cloak.
Grounded firm and tight.
Saved from drowning not once, but twice.
Surrounded in white light.
White light fades. Darkens gray.
Babies, friends, and loved ones mourned.
Conquered cancer once, twice, maybe more.
Eyes shed many a tear.
Many, many years disappear.
The voice strong. The voice loud.
A dream or real. Time to heal.
Gray turns white.
The sword of Michael shines bright.