The Serpent And The Wings Of Night | High Speed

The wings remember everything. They were born from the scream of a comet, baptized in the vacuum where no sound lives. They have scraped the zenith and felt the sun’s corona lick their pinions. Their shadow falls like a prophecy: vast, brief, and absolute.

“You would show me the dark of the root?” asks the wings. the serpent and the wings of night

“You would take me to the dark of the moon?” asks the serpent. The wings remember everything

And that is the only god left worth praying to—the one that rose on its belly and fell on its feathers, and found the middle air to be a kind of home. wide as a ribcage

So it opens its mouth, wide as a ribcage, and swallows them both.