#82 Wings of Fire

by Timmothy J. Holt

Flames of doubt pillage confidence; it leaves me to wonder if I’m to live a lie of heterosexuality or the sin of male love? It’s a fairy-tale where Rapunzel, in this case Fabio, throws down flowing locks and I climb to secret places where ecstasy is had for a whispered word, a chanced glance into azure alluring eyes. Was it the disco ball or a theatrical induced miasma? The come on would have weighty consequences.

These thoughts were in my mind as I lay on the barn hillside listening to the quiet of clouds colliding: castles becoming elephants, elephants mushrooms, mushrooms hearts. I raised my cowboy hat for a better view; a heart became a hand with outstretched finger slowly rotating, pointing to me.

“Tim you are my son. You delight Me.”

It must be thunder; clouds don’t talk.

“No mistake. I’m speaking. You should listen.”

“Who are you?”

“Must you ask?”

“No but I’d like confirmation.”

“I am.”

“You are?”

“Yes”

“Is this about last night in the bar?”

“You know it is.”

“I was only thinking. I didn’t do anything.”

“Never-the-less you had thoughts.”

From the hand came wings of fire obliterating all but a speck of blue sky, which then faded into a winged dove atop a cloud where rays of sun shown through revealing an azure blue, his eyes. A choir of angels sang love songs.

“Don’t forget, My greatest commandment is love.”

2 comments:

pegjet said...

Sweet message. In the end, isn't that all you need?

Daren Despot said...

i like the simplicity of the message, and the back-and-forth dialogue was well handed. great story.