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We fled this with lurching stride. We fled this, a burst of fire and pride. Running away, no one can turn it around. Fury, sound.
Smoke, it’s all those fires could sow - a prayer to sear the ground - a sole, raw plume in air, set to fall again.
Slowly watching the crash exploding in slow-mo. It went on and on.
Smoke. Alive, its limbs encroach with heaving breaths like bray. The spires rise, cascade, and we’re overrun. In time we’ll dream this way - a backdrop burned into the eye. It only shades how we haven’t won, and how much more to lose in that black eye.
A golem congealing ash into form, filled in like Bezalel. It’s real. Willed up like fire, and to believe every homily shapes its mind. It’s real. It’s real.
Lines of the throngs ignite, and wails fall, drowned. It molted viscous and rank - wrong, yet alive. By morning eyes have coalesced and leached off the light, reeling from qualia’s worst cryptic trial.
So spread like wild, and flash down to soil. New heat wrapped around the stalks. What was once evergrown fuels best, and ends still.
Won’t you forget? Won’t you have had enough of quandaries? What’s lost is lost. In the silence, after the eulogy, renounce all sides, all ties. “I’m done, I’m done.” In the silence, it’s enough to yearn and sigh, “I’m done.”
supported by 5 fans who also own “The Almost People”
Your music connects on every level, whether it’s physical, emotional or spiritual. Impressive musicianship and song writing. Love how you leave this undefined space for us listeners to draw our own images and blend in our own personal lives when listening. Beacons is one of my favorite albums of all time! olaussem