Saturday, January 1, 2011

Cintare

Lights display in the night's skies.
Orbs overhead form mysteries from the gilt-framed fragments bedded in mass conscience.
Military? Alien? Wind causes clouds to stray but the luminaries never sway; they stay
in formation.
For many evenings after it had begun the portent of unknown import hung in the thin cold home of dark matter.
Then they were gone.

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