Humanity has longed to be winged, has dreamed and wondered for millennia, and I think for more than we think we do. We want to fly freely, to have power, beauty, to surmount the clouds and see Light Itself. We want not the wings of eagles, but of Seraphim. We know that we want, but not always what –
Such wings would not be an escape from fight, but an overcoming, would they not? A rising to heights above the haze and clouds of mankind’s tragedy until you were not only in sight of the sun in its pure flame, but being consumed by it, burning as it does – radiating the same love with which you are struck, though never diminishing in ashes.
If you dream of flying, and wanting it as a beauty not meant for this life; if you see it as an escape from the ground you belong to – is that not because you were made for more than the confines of a spinning globe, more than a mortal’s lot; was your heart not created to contain eternally true Love and your body to be as beautiful as your soul, reflecting unspeakable Beauty Itself?