listen to me read
we have been
borned
but
of
deaths seed

what is it
you
think
you could
plant in me

she circled the globe
with her hands
on
the
moon

her heels
the
eat the axis


her spread holds everything
else
in
be
tween

hold my here
let me touch
your
freckles

let me straighten
your crooked eye
look real close
why
is
every eye

on
every
face
different

do you not think
do you
not
think we know
your perceptions
what wink have you
tell me of your wink
that the colour pink
would blink

was it that marroned night sky
the night the stars named me
the night they lost thier wink
they srceamed
you are
branded
you are
stranded
you are
an
stone

you are the glaciers
they flew threw me
as my spirit
tossed
do
you
not think

quickly he blinked
what were these buttons
what were there letters
he just stared
at the
l
e
t
t
ers
making words

let us go read
what being
born
of
the
dead
can write
?


















...
..
.

The fire bloomed and rose.
It rose far above the people.
The person who kindled it's light.

I watched.
I watched as the fire rose higher.
I watched as it consumed.
I watched as it consumed everything in it's path.

The people burned.
The plant life burned.
The paths burned.

Everything was on fire.
Everything was there.

Now everything is not.

There is black.
There is only black.
Smoke curls up.
Smoke fills my nostrils.

I turn.
Everything gone.
Everything gone because of the fire I created.
My fire.

I see a person.
They come.
They comfort.

They point.
They point to the black.
There is a different colour.

Green.

The person whispers.
Whispers before they disappear.

"My Darling.
My sweet darling.
Life grows stronger.
Stronger from the ashes of failure."