An angel appeared out of the blue. It manifested from the shapes and sounds of my daily life. When it's eyes shined time would tremble. They were magic and their moisture drew me inside. I felt drawn to join its ethreal groundlessness.
Was it a dream; a hallucination?
I dreamed I would be real. I dreamed I would be born into form. Where did this arise from I wondered? I couldn't look away from the spirit born in the morning mist. It was drawing me out of death and into life. It's colours magnetized. It's song pacified. It's form enriched.
Somebody spoke and it was destroyed.
Awake, I noticed there was nothing to grasp.
The dream left me empty and I realized the angel was real.
It showed me the rich mixture and flow of sadness, love, death, and birth. The dream - or better still, the angel, reminded me that emptiness and form are seamless.
It was a bodhisattva out of the blue.
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