they never let go

an army of figments grows,
gathered behind those giant nebulas
our mighty space glasses shoot.

no matter how high our science,
we still abide the call of the slime we are,
and the figments, strayed,
never to see the sun or feel a caress,
drafts on and on,
wings too tender to sustain flight,
unutterable injury and purity
looking from up high.

an army of figments grow,
so tiny they keep a garrison in my chest
and they never let go, they never let go