The Orb

The Orb

I’ve never witnessed any miracles
except the glowing plasmoid in our house,
how an angelic being came to me,
a thunderstorm in Houston. I was three
or four; this is an early memory–
one time when I was standing in the hall,
a glowing orb, a perfect lightning ball
descended through the ceiling, hovering,
and slowly down the hallway it proceeds 
into the living room with its TV.
No conscious messages that I received,
I felt no fear, instead, a gentle peace,
but now, how I look back, this, I believe–
the glowing orb, my angel guardian
this form how he, to, manifested, me.
This manner, I was marked, or claimed, or blessed,
as being one of them whom God possessed. 
How it accelerates into that eye,
this crackling lightning plasmoid projectile,
a little bigger than a soccer ball, 
into the Cyclops, where the orb then flew,
and an explosion, up, the TV, blew.
The orb inside the TV, small, became,
and tunneled through the cord into the wall,
and disappeared completely from our place.
My father can’t confirm these things to me.
It might be that he wasn’t home that night,
of this event he has no memory.
My mother, though, confirms this narrative
as being accurate, substantially.