From the clouds she steps forth.
In a flowing dress made of silks and stitched with gold.
Violet, like the sky, like the sea, like the Morning Glory.
"When will the celestial bodies sing once more?"
Addled by the shackles unseen, but commonly felt, Violet finds herself here and bathed in beauty.
'But where is here', she muses; '...if here be the place such song could go forth?'
Risen is the bird.
Taken to the wing on cool air, soft and gentle.
Before she touches the sky, Violet pauses for a mere moment to ponder the state of things unseen.
"All is one and one is all. Separate, together, spinning and still. This is where the toy-maker found inspiration. This is where the little ones grow."
Softly she smiles. A pretty smile too. One as warm as the sunlight which dances through the trees upon her cheek. Content. Happiness. An Angel, fallen, has new wings.
~ B L E S S ~