Spores
Their outer garments were chatoyant with the castoffs of an alien civilization.
They walked among us like nascent gods,
not yet fluent in the Words.
They were magi;
sometimes crowded thickly in the slums or camps,
Sometimes windrowed on the beaches of our cities.
We could not see them,
Saw only their human shadows,
etched on film, on
glass, and on concrete.
We did not know them,
but knew only their search, their loss, their abandonment.
Many vanished into the cemeteries,
Growing roots, turning inward, at last becoming stones.
Some moved on to higher, or lower, planes.
Some few attained enlightenment
and sparked new worlds at our feet
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