Burn. Burn like wild fires.
Burn like pages. Burn like leaves in autumn.
And send smoke signals.
Curling around my branches like a cat tail greeting to my leg.
I am a carrier pigeon, sometimes.
Other times, an arrow.
But either way.. I'll get there.
You are too big for the spaces between stones.
Be the infinite space between the lines.
And burn the rest to ash.

You'll need a place to rise from.