Uneternal things rush before
the maw of embers,
yelling and crying;
for the freedom they now face
is a hellish and cankerous design!
(Oh) how we harness earth to be
our precious thing –
yet we will burn, never she.
Oh, to be undying then,
until that time to see –
and we’d have time enough
to forget of joy’s indulgence.
And we’d have time to dance upon
the graves and ashes of every tree!
And our feet would burn,
bare under the orange sky,
as it sunders and stimulates the soil.
Ah! The sibilant stone hissed with delight
and cracked as thunder in heaven’s eye!
In heaven’s eye,
the stars are born
in fiery wombs.
In heaven’s great
black bosom
there is silence.
Let us consummate these stars,
as with our charge, the air;
and the trees shall know our passion.
For in this silence our minds
construct their fantasies of fire;
their images of hope,
like false prophets!
May our smoky spirits drift
upon her skin,
as she revolves and swells
and breathes life into the suns.
Until no more of us persists…
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