Fire
Passing passing passing
Most days are ice and cold blurring lines
Of nothingness, forgotten,
the hourglass fractures
His days were always hostile and unfulfilling
Yet he smiles, melting the world
Cold calculating and bursting at the seams
With the eyes of hardened diamond and honey
There where the swallow sits chirping in its branch
Feathers of amber and gold gazing
Upon the lost forest where dreams
And fantasy is made
“The world” is what you make it
Glaring at the gray skies of smoke and iron
He stutters, a breathe, a gasp, nothing
He sits and stares and thinks
With skinny fingers, a brittle hand reach above to open flame,
up high where it burns and shines: they’re the same
Fickle ashe hair reflecting what has been
All along
The life of one is worth the world in his eyes
Yet here he sits alone
Silent, a dime drops and he opens up
Wonders of world spill from his pen and his mind
Is anew
Narratives of time and time again
Of pain, of power, of longing, of life and triumph
The last chapter, the last moment, finally complete
A letter sent
a dime drops, the hourglass shatters and time stops