Saturday 29th August 2009

Friday 28th August. S. Augustine. 11,00 a.m.. Auricular choir of Angels. “Praise, praise, praise be to Jesus”. The name Jesus has some mystic sounds. Phonetically broken, almost crucified.

 

I feel angels as punctiform and cosmic together, very thin and thick, very vehement ultrasounds, much delicious personality, energy arrows, flaming determinations.

I am crazy about them. They have seduced me. They are my masters. They educate me to the Trinity and the Gospel. They fill me with praise and optimism. They are perceptive enthusiasts. They have something that is maternal.

When they have to take the human scene, they do it almost timidly, ready to sneak away, leaving inestimable gems: faith, hope, love. Reminding us that spirit is Flame. That each and every thing,  is ash before the Glory. That each and every thing is divinely  è in-Flammable.

This article is available in Italian too