MY SWEET ANGEL

My beloved,

What is all that anger that grips you?
You say you can't sleep at night and you don't know why. Won't those negative thoughts take you away from sleep? Could it be that your smile has gone out and the mirror no longer recognizes your gaze?
What killed your heart? Your dreams seem to have flown so far from you.
Is it a pride that you had to burn in the flame of necessity, or is it the disappointment of still feeling stuck in the same place that makes you suffer the most?
My beloved ... it seems so long ago that that little girl spread her wings and knew how to fly: she knew the bridges built on laughter, she set fires of joy in people's hearts, she listened with her eyes full of greed to the words that came from parallel worlds that he could hardly understand, but he was learning to know. He loved life and cried with emotion in front of a half-built project: his dream became real. She had built it, piece by piece and assembled with Love, brick by brick. Looking at her, one learned to fly with her.
And now? You have torn your wings and you don't want to fly anymore. Out of fear or out of pain?
I would like to hug you, but I feel you escape like the water of a fountain. "He" fills the bowl and drinks you to himself. You know that "he" is not a solution: he is your column, your warm summer sun, your chimney when it snows ... but it was you who saved him, when you still knew how to fly and now you know you can't make yourself save from "him". Little girls like you save themselves, courageously, with the strength of their legs to get up and with that of their wings to take flight.
Do not give up.
Even when the way seems so dark, the path is always illuminated by some stars.
I have been ordered to let you do it, to make you run in your footsteps and, if necessary, allow you to make mistakes. And I obey because I can't do otherwise. I don't have a choice. You yes.
Sweet, sweet baby! Don't listen to that voice in your head that tells you that you are weak. Do not stay to taste the bitterness in the mouth of those wings and those hopes that are broken.
It all has a meaning and a reason to exist and to happen: the time comes to understand it, as always. When it comes, our hearts explode with happiness as we understand that everything that happened was in the right place and was there for us.
When did you stop believing in all of this?
And when did you begin to think that Love should be measured from person to person?
The little girl I know was spreading it with both hands: she always had time for a distant friend. for a smile to tear from a cry, for a hug that took your breath away, for a tear of emotion that hid joy rather than pain. For a chat. Yes, two words thrown away whose value was immeasurably great. I love you, you told me.
Smile at me now. Now more than ever, because you feel like crying.
Your wings cannot dry up like autumn leaves. The angels know that it is their duty to fly: an angel who can no longer fly takes something away from the world.
A child who can no longer smile turns off the Energy of the Universe and all the suns of the galaxies would not be enough to warm the Earth, as much as her curious and serene eyes.
I remember with Love your wings, it lives on your bare back, and I think it hasn't been that long. It seems like years: when you suffer for someone, time expands.
I am happy and I would like to be able to talk to you, to help. You look at me with envy in the eyes, tired and disillusioned, and you don't know that it would be enough for everyone (absolutely everyone!) To hear you laugh once again to be reborn and to find harmony.
How long have you not laughed heartily, haven't you laughed heartily?
I don't cry and I wait: I know that the New Day will come and it will bring with it those wings, which you miss so much. He will sit royally next to you and show you how much Light and what events you have missed up to then. He will spread his arms and you will begin to notice how many little things were chained to each other, without you ever noticing.
Suddenly you will find yourself on top of the mountain of your successes, dreams and happinesses without knowing how you got there. And, at the same time, you will realize that the stillness that frustrated you was made up of small steps. You climbed that mountain with tortoiseshell steps: slow, but inexorable. This is how you got to the top. And that you have become wise.
It will all be there, in front of you.
And you will cry. You will cry for joy because you did not understand; you will be moved by the people who have been around you, even when they did not seem; you will cry sympathetically towards your great courage to get up from the ground, which you did not think you had. And closing your eyes you will feel again those wings, which you thought you had lost and which you had only stopped looking.
Finally, after so many pains, you will observe that New Day and with it you will take flight.
Have a good trip, my angel.

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