Cinder and ash
Opaque layers of paint
The embers of pine cones
Shingles and wood torn from homes
The wind carries
Torturous pieces
Flaming arrows
Delicate land
Catching it all within its nets
Ravaged amber earth
Once like the doldrum seas
And halcyon woodlands
On a tiny planet spinning in the dark
Its skies covered in cinder and ash
Opaque like layers of paint


On the road to ourselves
Sky mirror
Setting on the horizon
Quivering with warnings
All the silences
Summoning the firmament
The expanse
Separating heaven and earth
A final June
A last chance
A choir of voices
Demand that we turn around
Because the road to ourselves
Is such a road
Where we will find
That our own hearts will condemn us