Sky pilot angel soaring through space
between planets and glowing stars long gone
now only an illusion to my tired embarrassed eyes.

Soaring through endless nothingness
filled with but crepuscular energy
unseen, unfelt, unfound, unfit 
for gross existence and known only
in apprehension by old soul sages.

Does time rush slow or fast 
neither diligent nor deceased
lazing in endless terrain
where nothing prevails
to pull you back to truth
ejected from such fortune.

Lynx cats gather around 
a shaman named Marcel
while midnight snow fell voiceless,
winds howled through high mountain passes
bears birthed their cubs silently.