It fed upon the light and found strength
to gather together the stuff of death
and kindle a kind of life inside it.
It learned to feed on others who did this,
stitching itself together from stuff
which had already been gathered elsewhere,
and so learned it could go into the depths
where the light could not penetrate,
and interrogate the darkness,
and in the darkness it found others
who lived on light, and fed on them,
and so forgot the light entirely.
Its appetite grew so that life was not enough.
It needed more, consumed things long dead,
drank black coagulated blood, chewed clots,
dug up the crust of their anonymous and erased remains,
but without the light the dead brought only death,
not life, and so it rose into the light again,
and grew wings of glass, and learned to fly
upon the gusts and currents of the light
that carried it into the darkest night.
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