11: 59pm...

Saw the fabric of your providential spirit, the night the cars crashed hard, against each other, glass shard cutting limbs and faces a hundred feet away. The angels arrived and fell upon the people, aware they would not survive, but were sent to stay beside them, until time came for their bodies to become souls...come home again. Sirens in distant echo...much traffic, chaos; the circus in town, and you wonder why anxiety and arrhythmia are killing fields of heart, mind or womb of the woman with child. The sirens ceased... the angels disappeared after a moment of reflection for the passing, as the clock quietly struck one a.m., so silent, 'til a somber voice murmured 'Time of Death'. And I watched your expressions throughout the seconds and minutes as hope and doubt weighed your mind like a see-saw, a disturbing madness for certain, but- your faith never wavered, not once, as- I know you saw the angels too, I know, I know, as the traffic jams they said that caused a slow response and un-necessary deaths had nothing at all to do with the Circus in town, as that's not how Death works, at all. Death does not deign any element but Time, and Time has no supersede than the One- who sent His angels to the souls whose Time had come to be carried out by Death, to a place- where cars never crash, where angels comfort, sing and dance, and circus's are never seen, as- the treasures here are far beyond any woman, man or child could wish. And, You knew this, from the very moment- your body went to sleep as they lifted you from in between two cars... at eleven-fifty-nine p.m., a minute shy of a brand new day. ©Frank James Ryan, Jr./ FjR MMXVIII-All Rights Reserved