Unaware Choice

 
One dreary afternoon,
when the sky begins to spill,
Finally, a name feared,
the slit-eyed phantom, blooded tears
one who brought death to many,
frees itself of spite, embracing
the warmth of humanity and vanishes

What existed for him on the other side?
Perhaps a world where the sun gleams
overhead, with children beaming
When the fog dissipates, all that remains
is sparkling dew on plants and webs
Where even the lost, the poor, and the vulnerable
Look back on their journey and sigh,
A house on a hill, the world forever still
on a moment of paradise.

Yet as the warmth continued to grow
The light continued dissipate into air,
the dull, gray city deteriorating into
cracked black terrain, fluttering sparks
of orange spill out from the fissure underneath.

The warmth grew until it scorched
Brimstone stretch endlessly into the darkness
perhaps remaining spiteful
would have been a better choice.

*

From the Passing Breeze

— after “From the Sustaining Air” by Larry Eigner

from the passing breeze

an epiphany

There is vibrancy in the grass
and a halo, wavering iridescence

summer’s searing heat

The following futures

When sprinting, I look to the kind blue

The passing breeze

a moment of sanctuary

The fading childish spark, I smile wistfully

*

Nostalgia

 
Leaves sway with the beat of silence.
Flowers bloom with complete innocence–
petals stretched out towards the sky,
feeling the brilliance and warmth of sunlight.

All this beauty is just a fantasy–
a piece of film stuck in the past.
The skin of water from the shallows,
brightened picture of shadows.

I’m not there, in the photo.
I wasn’t beautiful as a fleeing butterfly
stuck in a maelstrom of eminent flies—
instead, painting my future with pastel lies.

There once was a time
when I could’ve been there–
embracing and enjoying the brightest lights
now stone cold, without a tomb.
Diminishing fireflies make my home.