am i the forest or am i the axe?
parasite vines that strangle the leaves,
gnarling roots tearing through cobbled veneers,
or transforming corpses into glowing heat?

am i the stardust or am i the black?
burning a world before it was born,
collapsing into a catastrophic sun,
or merely resting my eyes before dawn?

am i the vessel or am i the cracks?
the flawed container that fails to hold,
messily patched with drips of gold,
or freeing a nectar from being controlled?