I fly alone, watching shadows,
Feeling the air in my wings, on my beak,
The quiet sound of distant groundlings.
And, behind, a haunting voice.
Another like me, in my wake,
I spin, no black in the air, no silhouette,
But a voice. And her shadow on the ground.
I turn, fly on, fly off. Fly.
Ahead, the voice calls 'Evermore'.
An ebon eye catches mine,
Set in pure soul-white, shining,
We land, understand, silence.
Stay.