The Nephilim

From Jotunheim came the circular shed
Which flies here, there, in the communist wasteland.
She arrives on the shores of the rising sun.
A phantom, a nonentity,
Technically not existing,
She lands, with her beauty.
The wise Shaman recognizes
Her as strange, so places her back in her shed
And she drifts back to see
Never to be seen again.