The Dance
Thomas Aquinas once asked . . .
Ecstasy written across her face, she twirled and spun. Faster and faster, a whirling dervish, wings spread wide. Long golden hair whipped around her face caressing the glistening white purity of feathered wings. She was alone, dancing with the simple joy of being.
Whispers of sound as another of her kind floated down beside her. She stilled. Looking around, she smiled in welcome. The rustling of feathers was the only sound. Then from somewhere the harps started their unearthly tune. And angels danced.
How many angels can dance on the head of a pin? Count them.
About the Creator
Tracey Zielinski
I read fiction. I breathe fiction - all kinds of fiction.
I love reading work which stimulates my imagination and takes me to new places.
My goal is to be a writer who brings your imagination to life.
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