Woven in the wind was the tissue thin veils
              of wings that tore upon the heavens,
                                                in subtle breathes.

Subtle mirages were spread around there
                                  worldly travels.
              Never seeing what was there.

Just a shimmer of  rainbow shades.
                A kaleidoscope of reflection,
     seeing shades shimmer delicately.


But when a raindrop never descended,
                    and in the collective desert
                    of visual obscurity were they vulnerable.


Play things for the feral masters of pink flesh
                did they jump feverishly.
   But on human eyes did the mirage fulfil.
                   a fallen wing had fell.


And with a plastic tomb were they dispatched.
                 an offering of great pleasure.
But t human cognitive visuals a fluorescent bird
                                                              fe­athers clawed


without a hue of intention only the fever of the hunt.

Man only saw a incandescent mirage,
                       when rain fell.
                       but beneath this camouflage
                were wings that flustered the seasons
                                         pleasures on mans world.