angelhood.
divine serenity. that was the password for an old woman's phone. she was a pain at the hotel. she didn't mean to. she was just a confused angel, turning back towards the stars, forgetting the customs of our mortal world.
angelhood is everywhere. everything has angelhood. everything is made up from the ashes of stars.
our bodies are made of crushed little stars. that is angelhood.
angels are everywhere. those boys with long hair are angels. those strange girls on the internet posting weird thoughts that you have to decipher are angels. those punks in the town square of charlottesville are angels. the stoners outside the 7/11 past midnight blowing smoke into the cold night air are all angels. the group of highschoolers celebrating a successful show at ihop are angels. the little girl with frosting on her face and dirt in her hair is an angel. the old man who lives slowly and cherishes his cat is an angel.
nature is angelhood.
the clouds with sunlight etched into the edges is angelhood. fawns and seal pups both brushed with kisses from the sun is angelhood. fat bumblebees resting on the petals of flowers is angelhood. the flock of seabirds over the ocean is angelhood. the heron sat on the shore of the lake is angelgood. the looming willow tree outside my grandpa's old nursing home is angelhood. the moon in all its phases, yet it still remains the moon, is angelhood. the stars that glitter and look back at the rebirth of their old friends is angelhood.
angelhood is everywhere.
i think of that sweet woman with that bizarre phone password. divine serenity. how did she come up with that? what does it mean? where is she now?
angels are among us.
i am an angel. the sunlight turns my eyes into vast pools and the sun kisses my skin with freckles in the summer. i speak softly to animals and bugs like to sit on my skin. that is angelhood.
this is angelhood.
the whole world is a product of angelhood.