At the edge of the body there is said to be a flaming halo- yellow, red, blue or pure white, taking its color from the state of the soul. Cynics scoff. Scientists make graphs to refute it. Editorial writers, journalists, & even certain poets, claim it is only mirage, trumped-up finery, illusory feathers, spiritual shenanigans, humbug. But in dreams we see it, & sometimes even waking. If the spirit is a bride about to be married to God, this is her veil. Do I believe it? Do I squint & regard the perimeter of my lover's body, searching for some sign that his soul is about to ignite the sky? Without squinting, I almost see it. An angry red aura changing to white, the color of peace. I gaze at the place where he turns into air & the flames of his skin combine with the flames of the sky, proving the existence of both.