Torn Up (micropoetry)

between the stones
I listen for the sound
under a tree
I hear the word
of mercy
  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
into the mud
I look up into your eyes
until I see no more
are a sculpture
from the lines
  of infinity
laid to rest
  on the bed
of salvation
you wrapped your illness in roses
delivered with a bow
I will live and die
but now is not the time
we speak
in smoke signals
around in circles
disappearing to the touch

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