Apparently I'm a dragonfly.
Darting wings of manganese
Fly solo ‘mongst the swarm
Other colours pair, or blend
And twirl, and dance, conform.
To outmoded convention
Of What “always has been”
Ignoring the wings that
Circle freely, unseen.
Others purples have entered
The kaleidoscope dance
In harmonic singularity
Meeting only by chance
While the bonded wings dance
Their coupling operation
Their solitary companions
Fear no infatuation
Instead they dance together
A gamble of kinship
Purple dragonflies happy
No desire for courtship.
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Meanwhile on Tanalorr, circa 4 ABY...
Text (In case you can't read my handwriting):
Merrin: So the Rebels blew up another Death Star.
Cal: Good for them.
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