phantasmal
his wings were like a spectral fog, a luminescent smoke
phosphorescent tendrils upon which he took flight
as he cast his eyes downward with an infernal glare
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Knowing that death is certain and that the time of death is uncertain, what's the most important thing?
—Bhikkhuni Pema Chödrön
Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
—From "Burnt Norton," Four Quartets (1936), T. S. Eliot
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