Surely, To Ashes

I'm not like you; it is
my blood dripping in soil.
My wing bones wrecked,
broken in three places.

Unlike you, I cannot see
the stars, their silver bodies
perfect in a perfect sky;
my blindess irreversible.

And when, the nothingness
spreads like wild-fire,
unable to rise or fly away,
surely, I will burn to ashes.

1 comment:

matt at shadow of iris said...

I can't figure out what this poem refers to, but I liked it enough to read it four or five times. Excellent.