before the fire—
in love with the world
and all its possibilities
waiting for
the falling knife—
he’s already dead
interlocked
now and then, here and there
all the possibilities
wrapped in the palm of a hands
eating itself
the serpent awaits
the world’s destruction
fire, water, wind, and stone—
a tear for all that’s lost
an endless stream—
we sail around and ‘round
in love with it all
as the world burns
the olive branch
was no cure
in a world of daggers
elements opposed—
the cup boils over
in a mix of fate
wrapped in place—
a rose for every occasion