It was morning

Not early

Not late

That is when I saw it  

My eyes were distracted from the narrow stretch of country road

To find a perfect white circle hovering over the distant trees

A gentle haze quieted its intensity

So that I could gaze into its supposed fury

It seemed this entity had woken up late

Too late to fulfill its mighty purpose to the world

I halted my commute

To confirm what my tired eyes were seeing

It was too large to be the keeper of night

But it was too pale to be the keeper of day

A perfect circle of white

Soon I was again distracted

This time by a noise

A brook

This brook did not babble though

It only whispered

But it certainly made its presence known

After a moment or two

I ignored the water’s faint cry

And the cliché arrangement of trees on the hill

To find that the circle was speaking to me

He told me I was blessed

To see him void of power and strength

He told me this would be my life’s only moment to witness him lacking his cloak

Of radiance

Take it in, he said

With no jurisdiction over the infinite expanse

He stood in solitude

Praying

That few would see him without his influence

Vulnerable

Naked

He told me not to tell anyone about what I had seen

I politely listened

Then continued on my way