You are made of almost nothing But of enough To be great eyes And diaphanous double vans; To be ceaseless movement, Unending hunger, Grappling love. Link between water and air, Earth repels you. Light touches you only to shift into iridescence Upon your body and wings. Twice-born, predator, You split into the heat. Swift beyond calculation or capture You dart into the shadow Which consumes you. You rocket into the day. But at last, when the wind flattens the grasses, For you, the design and purpose stop. And you fall With the other husks of summer. "The Dragonfly" by Louise Bogan