A wedding ring is a visa granted to the source, where the clear lepidopteran's wing is rubbed of its scales. Please grant the bearer an unlocked bureau, an unhinged line, and all the privileges assigned thereto.

With the scrip so issued, a last breath is drawn. So discharged, the sounding begins.

As the sounding of whales after the squid.
As a torpedo knifing through Lethe.
As radio silence.
As lemma promises wormholes offer.

And the blackout never lifts. Declarations stretch into heat lightning, to murmurs, the length to the unmanned port. It's done. The conical shield never needs to expire.