Transcendence in the twilight
A special quality of light
Attraction to the realm of wings
Forsaking congress with scales and fins
At the juncture of air and water
The neonate ephemeropter
Morning sun is beckoning
Air is slowly thickening
With multitudes of mayflies
That molt and pause then fly and rise
For them there is no night
Only joy and flight
Lasting until evening
When stamina is dwindling
Flut'ring to their ending
Expiring - to the future sending
Yet another generation
Born from their obliteration
They have not an inkling - of what went before
They live and die in one bright day
And know no less - no more
Than what it is to fly then die
In a mayfly paradigm
That has no name for you nor I
In ignorance sublime
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