The Sighs of the Universe

There were more of us once.

Shrouded in royal purple cloaks, we sigh deeply into the universe, for there is no where else to sigh.

The tiny-brained humans thought that we were many, thought that we were pristinely white, thought that we could fly with our fluffy white wings.

We are not what they think.

We are few, we cannot see, we cannot fly. We exist, we endure, and we watch the humans run on temporary legs.

They run so fast, and they always get nowhere.

Still, they ponder. Angels, they call us. Demons, they may say. What's the difference? When we are seeing with unseeing eyes from this far away, what does it matter, good or evil?

Everything exists in both. We are both, so therefore we are neither.

The stars call to us, so we sigh to them, for there is little else to do.