Poem

This pearl appears to contain a simple poem of sorts, likely traded amongst the inhabitants of a city up until the mass ascension.
I don't recognize it or the importance to its meaning, but I'll still read it out to you nevertheless:

"With wings, ever-so Brilliant,
we soar, Soar yet ever-higher,
Twelve, Eight, Thirty-Seven leagues above,
Clouds below, Unfathomably distant,
Even higher, Grazing the stars,
picking glistening blossoms forth,
from the Heavenly Garden above,
And One, by One, we glide Back down to brew,
priceless wines from starlight fruit,
To embibe and laugh as we watch,
the Gilded Wings we once flew upon,
Scatter into countless Stars and Feathers,"

Thank you, I guess, little messenger.
Normally reading these poems from my creators would be a chore, but in this dire situation, it does bring a weird sense of comfort.