The angels play their most beautiful music at in-between times.
Sometimes they bring out their horns between midnight and the thirteenth hour.
Sometimes their music fills the skies in the moments between yesterday and today.
They do not follow a schedule but it is said that they play their best melodies just after the blackness of the night sky begins to fade and turn into cobalt blue but just before the songbirds commence their dawn chorus.
Their music floats into the aether at moments when one thing ends and gives way to the beginning of something new.
When transitory, life-altering moments slice the grand concept of your lifetime into before and after periods.
Not everyone can hear the music though.
It is a privilege reserved only for the newborns and the dying.
At the beginning of a new life or when an old one nears its end.
I suppose that is when we feel most alive.
About Tales for Demesne