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.
