passing me, they're passing, they're taking to the winds- fleeing on to somewhere else, on their way to ease, wreathed in such secrets-my brittle reasoning is nulled and unconscious of them, asleep to their screams- cross the sun the birds of prey wheeling; escaping from heights of lust and longing they take flight, so dazzling and-I'm shadowing their passing; so wonderous to be seen- and I'm longing for the wings that they unravel and reveal, returning over and over; returning over and over...