Every Relic Once Came from this Life

In the corner of the bathroom window 
one morning, translucent, papery body 

that must have got caught in the hinge. 
Who knows how long it dangled, how 

it languished there; how long 
before it expired and turned 

the color of old ivory. In the same way, 
the self doesn't know when it will reach 

the point of that last surprise; what 
sound it will make as the light 

folds it into its mouth. Sometimes 
a shadow crosses your vision: fate 

marking you as it flies overhead.    
Never once do you feel its passing.  

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