this.
this word.
mutter it softly, as the fireplace moans.
bring your bones to the pyre,
bring your dragons,
bring your friends.
come to this pyre and we shall burn
the past into the present.

do you hear the thin noise of action?
the things that you will do,
the things that you have done,
all rushing into that heart of yours,
that heart of ours,
that fiercely fragile thing?
yes. you do.
and you shall break the mountains with every whisper.
let your words proliferate across this crumbling world (spinning itself to dust),
a legion of ants on this blue sphere.

do, and your flesh will unravel into dawn.
do, and the vices writhing in all our skulls will have no choice but to yield.
do, and we shall leave all these broken lamps behind,
let them drift away on this slate-blue sea,

do,
and we shall burn the past
into the future.