Commission for Limikkin of her OC.
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slowly, softly, you will rise
drawn by a presence from the skies.
an angel, golden, spreads her wings.
while you rest, she softly sings.
As a haunting melody trails off and the sun paints the sky gold, the world slowly wakes. Well, maybe not the whole world, but a part of it, stretching and shuffling into the day ahead.
Here, where people linger in the limbo between slumber and awareness.
This, these quiet morning hours, is the Angel of Awakening’s domain. She shepherds the rising souls into consciousness with gentle nudges, wishes them peace, and moves onto the next group.
It’s an endless cycle, a circling of the planet, but she’s content. She wants for nothing; few things hold more meaning for her than what she has.
She’s needed: invisibly appreciated and silently loved.
It is all she needs.
limned by light, she glows and glows.
there is no tongue she does not know.
this is her eternity:
to watch the world sleep peacefully.
All angels shine; this is a fact. There is an aura, a halo of gold, a presence.
But she shines brighter, more serenely, like a candle that never falters. She is warmth. She is flame that doesn’t burn. She is everlasting radiance.
She is a dream the world yearns for. Cherishes. Peace blankets Earth where she gazes, and spirits turn towards her like flowers seeking the sun.
She glows ever brighter with their adoration.
she blesses you, when you wake.
she gives and gives and does not take.
she is gentle and good and kind,
a fairer soul you will not find.
It is easy to think the Angel of Awakening’s job finishes when the souls she guards awake.
Let not this misconception cloud your mind; nothing could be further from the truth.
Nightmares aren’t just for the night. Terrors lurk everywhere and know not the demarcation of time. They are endless, growing, unholy. Infiltrating thoughts and dreams alike, they wreak havoc, dimming the light.
With infinite patience, she casts them aside to guide the world into waking once more.
Somehow, it is enough.
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