Torn Up (micropoetry)

between the stones
I listen for the sound
 
poisoned
under a tree
I hear the word
of mercy
 
wounded
  I sail through the darkness
    on the way
      to a lost continent
 
I tore myself up
from broken earth
to rise like a king
but fell, burnt out
like the dying sun
 
falling
into the mud
I look up into your eyes
until I see no more
 
  you
are a sculpture
  formed
from the lines
  of infinity
laid to rest
  on the bed
of salvation
 
you wrapped your illness in roses
delivered with a bow
 
someday
I will live and die
forthrightly
but now is not the time
 
we speak
in smoke signals
around in circles
disappearing to the touch

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