The souls of birds,
tucked beneath their wings,
are there to ease the dying birds
in dignified descent
to their graves.
That done, in flutters, vortices
and swift spirals,
they rush beyond blue skies,
undeterred by galaxies and black holes.
The lesson, then, for us
is to discover where our souls are tucked,
to get to know them
as the guides
to our own journeys to the grave.
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