Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Vierra Jun 2019
There's a hint of melancholy left in my breath,
a hint of cold in the summer

It's staples of nourishment that has lighted
pathways to salvation,
lighted pathways to safety and a distance from chaos
places like this on the horizon and a day's sail further
exist in a iridescent dream in my recollection

Islands of landmass proportions that rival the wonder of planetary revelations and celestial events that streak through the sky,
float among the ocean currents along side the ring of fire

The children of the Pacific remember these fiya skies and
praise those little portions of stardust lingering on the breeze
that create it.

The saline air collects in my lungs
beautiful coastlines with saltwater clouds 100 meters above the cliffs are home to those that ride on air gusts
they nest with their young hidden in caves a ways above the pristine and rugged rock face
the sun hits them quietly to warm and she leaves them the cooler at dusk on the ridge

Children of the Pacific all know this to be truth,
we established this fact through generations of life

It is how we ensure our survival as a people,
It is community collected lessons that we feed on and digest daily, to share this with the world is our privilege and responsibility,
one that we take seriously...
I am birthed of fire and nurtured by water all in the vast emptiness of the Pacific.
imadeitallup Aug 2014
You can only imagine
How it feels
How the oxygen
Leaves the room
Just before you
Are consumed
By heat, so intense
You cease to exist
And turn to ash
In it's presence
But you can never know
How it feels
The last breath
In a black lung
Until you burn
Only then,
Can you speak of fire.

— The End —