Whatever this is, it certainly won't fade from the sky as a meteor death, unless with comet's purpose it explodes itself into granite rap below. Perhaps this stone is frozen flight, metallic as a thousand hawks, their power, poised and balanced, circling eternal in ice-gouged rock: Easy enough as crystallin cage, terminus through which a shattering bird might join the flight of his brothers. Easy enough, as a wing slices air, wafting these walls above the plain, such simple grace within their bond, forgetting all they knew of pain - carrying earth through heaven.

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