From The Lab

Wind Walkers

Footsteps on the fluff,
Bits of the Nimbus stuck on the heel
Like toilet paper, trailing off,
A breadcrumb path revealing
Past crossroads chosen.

Hidden within the high fog,
Nestled in a bed of imaginary
Imaginings, they drift along,
Silent as a folding wing.

High within their misty haunts,
Numerous eagle-eyes observe
The long grounded species.

Hear the silent chuckles
Floating on the breeze,
These are the Wind Walkers'
Words, mocking the races
That are beneath them and Beneath them,
In all possible ways.
Call it arrogance if you will,
But who's to say that confident things
Do not have confident falls?