They stand and stare at what appears to be another of themself
They shake hands, embrace eachother
They exchange their fists against one another
There were others, copies of their sisters and brothers
They repeat the cycle, multipling in the progress.

Eventually they grew tired, laid down around in a circle
In the centre of the circle there was one, different from the rest
At times above, sometimes below but never on the same ground
When night arrived, some were afraid while others kept their pride
Offering comfort and protection to their kind.

Decades had passed, replaced by new groups
Except the one in the circle
One who never aged, truly one of a kind
Until the day when the one grew wings and flied away
Everyone around the circle had died.