As the final, fading rays of a sleepily transient sun claw their lazy way from reality, an unseen beauty is inversely illuminated. A silken lustre of softly glowing light glosses over the jagged-edged cityscape below. Countless gossamer threads of gentle luminescence weaving together to form a blanket so smooth, it eludes the touch; so light, all is visible through it and so beautiful, it cannot be captured and confined to mere words.
Overhead, twinkling eyes belonging to scores of angels smile down. Eyes, windows on the soul, souls that have borne witness to innumerable years of beauty, tainted with the ever present sadness that afflicts immortality. The moon, a stationary half-orb, floating stilly on the placid, black sea of the night sky.
A thousand feathered fingertips gently caress each subtle curve of an outstretched hand, which tries in vain to grasp the beauty of its surroundings and draw them into mortal perception. Tantalizing tendrils of wind seductively snaking about limbs, twining tightly; to draw you yet further into the silent cacophony of beauty and grace.
Engulfed in a perpetual falling, deeper and deeper into the eternal bliss of a single moment, captured forever in a memory.