Little Chair Necklace of Jeweled Eyes and Flawless Wings

"time quivers slightly . . . the tiny shifts in everything--cell replication, the rain of dust motes, lengthening hair, wind-pushed rocks--press inexorably on and on" ~Proulx

The days too short for complete happiness
Tease us with the thought of satiety,
Those folding black wings of desire shouldered

Neatly across our broad, muscular backs.
Why not? We are angels, each one of us,
Chimeras of mere chemistry, living

Systems, beings, and cultural vectors,
The impossible things of our own dreams.
We could rise up yet through the sand hourglass

We constructed, hymned, and then abandoned
For mechanical chimes and cuckoos, then
For quartz and silicon, mere chemistry.

See? It's eternally what it was, comes
Eternally newly old, newly past,
But somehow closes a complete cycle

Or two. Nothing was so monstrous. Inhere
Without having been inherent, and you,
Too, may stretch gossamer wings, Dragon! Fly.