While finishing
the text
and recalling
the paths of the soul,
a strong wind
from Mt. Share
enters the flat
and stirs the dry air
in the room.
The TV
turns on by itself
and brings in an ethereal echo
of the distant song
of small angels
sitting cross-legged
on a cloud
in the blue sky.
The song unwinds
and the cherubs’ voices
say that the soul
appears
in twilight
escorted inevitably
by a dire portent.