A luminous translucent light emerges <br />from the fog… moving in slow motion... <br />A floating form that is not of flesh and blood <br />Veiled in a cosmos of sparkling micro-stars <br /> <br />A solitary observer strains to see more detail <br />Searching for familiar features… finding none <br />Attracted to follow… not knowing the reason <br />An ethereal sensation clings and mystifies <br /> <br />No sounds are heard… yet there is a breeze <br />Ever so slight from rapidly fluttering wings <br />The throbbing of a quickened heart ceases <br />In this moment, the gates of heaven open wide <br /> <br />1/22/2010<br /><br />Theresa Ann Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dying-47/
