Though I saw it all around
Never thought I could be affected
Thought that we'd be the last to go
It is so strange the way things turn

Friday, July 1, 2011

to a Flame

A constellation of fireflies
flit in the night-tree canopy.
Living planetarium of
ever changing stars,
calling to each other with
the psalm of sex.
One note staccato
rhythm of the ages.
Candles burning on both ends
from the fever of life.
Take me, nurse,
before I am consumed
by the fire
and fall cinder like
into the glorious
pin-hole sky.

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