Your wings are formed by sacred geometry, a lustrous filigree supporting your flight through space and time.
You appeared to me in a fleeting vision during a meeting of the meditation class I have been attending for several years. A small, supportive group of mostly middle aged women, all of us seekers of truth, bouyed up in fanciful guided journeys by each other. It was here, in safety, that you, Dragonfly, first appeared. I had constructed a veil-like fence with the latticework of your wings. The fence was attempting to keep at bay an all pervading evil misperception which was threatening my very livelihood and peace. Your wings, subtle and sacredly beautiful were not sufficient to keep this evil on the outside. Ugly fists punched at your Fibbonacci means and soon they crumpled like so many stained glass ornaments. So went the contents of my meditative musings. But, always wishing for belief in the protective constructs of the metaphysical, I still carried you into my waking life in hope of gaining solace, or very real help against the writhings of untruth.
Alas, my protection proved to be too weak and this afternoon very real stinging words and acusations tumbled my sense of self like seismic tremors. I must find armour made of a stronger mail .
Farewell little dragonfly.
