Glitters in the black
No one knew—even God.
They shifted, flied, floated,
Until the right place to stop.
I thought I heard the truth
But I was ridiculously wronged.
Their wings minuscule egg-shells,
Not papyrus, fragile and intenable, and with the blackness darkened,
They became more readable, the vestige of
A vow from those who already departed and forgot.
And the remnants excised into the wild
I’ve seen them shine,
But I no longer keep their testament.