Another way
to switch this array
of limitless colors
into a sprawl of gray.
It has become enough
to see it, as it was,
with nothing but air
to provide our touch.

What were we saying
when we were surveying
the vastness of these ruins?
Fire has always been
our light, after we ignored
what it was destroying.

Fire has now brought
attention to our wounds,
before feeling the pain.

We cannot continue,
burning when we walk,
leaving ashen footprints
for ghosts to follow.

We must surrender,
believing in the end
that was always near.

We must not suffer,
after all we'll divorce.
We'll lead our sickness
to its beautiful grave.