Is it a bird?

When every god has been declared dead, and the goddesses are laid out under their shrouds, billowing gracefully in the passing breeze, when the post mortems have all been completed, and the causes of death established, then their immortal spirits will finally take to the wing, and head out beyond the skies.
























While the blissful ones carried blissfully on.


And in the jet stream the whispers of crystals slowly disperse until we mistake them for clouds, and we realise we are alone. We have become the new gods.