Before it took its various shapes
I felt its presence
along the way
it's had bones
and once in a blue moon
a little flesh has grown.
I begin to believe, each time,
but like the passing of a season,
it will rot and fade
till only something faint remains..
Just as I doubt it was ever there
bones grow anew
The skeleton has taken form once more.
Flesh may grow and who knows
maybe this time It will endure,
long enough for its wing to unfurl,
and take flight
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