Electric Blue

I expect that anyone looking at this knows perfectly well how to 'pop' the blue. 
I don't.
But when I rounded the corner this morning on my bike the electric blue was popping.
Separately, there's been a dispute raging for several millennia regarding the size of an angel -
One school of thought wonders how many might fit on the head of a pin while the others imagine them to be massive – on a par with Rio de Janeiro's Christ the Redeemer.
I don't believe in any of that old nonsense, but quite late this afternoon I was told that someone else will be performing the tasks I had been really struggling to accept.
In my former life, my calm place was the tiny monastery of ταξιάρχων – the Archangels, and today, perhaps, they may be with me – electric blue, in my pocket, the size of crumbs.