Fine grey skin
Housing feeble bones
Sharp and light
Ivory needles
Concealed in humble form

Meek creatures hiding below
Fearful of light
Breathing stale air
As it cycles through generations
Never to roam

We are bound
Chained to the selfish earth
Her muddled trophies
Of simple times
Though not for long

Pilfer the horizon
Pluck from it hueful plates
Diaphanous armor
Vibrant and defiant
Of the vague tones below

The spectrum of feathers
Donned the spectral defector
As they float free
The envious fellows below
Lie in our prismic shadows

From freedom hatches light
From light, truth
and from truth, love
So our flock grows
The dance eclipsing the sky

As the shade returns
You and I drift down
Wings too aged to fly
From out feathers we build a home
Our grey skin now cradled within a rainbow nest
With vivid memories disguised as dreams
Of when we were
Birds of Paradise

-Galwyn

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