Once autumn your eyes
stitched a chrome cloth
all those diaries once written
on paper disappear lost
in a hearts journal-
hair of char gave meaning
to the copper of seasons the sons
we brought into existence
now sing our imprints
and why-
what is love and then death
as like infusing iron with a flower-
what would be the purpose
to propose the power of living.
Same as formulating a simple
mixture of water and oil;
ice and sun, the twice a flicker
of truth-
the one element stronger, will
overpower the other, and yet
at this old age, I learned that death
is just a shallow shadow, sinking
like oil that stays on the surface
of water, our souls being water,
the heavier element, pure and clear
as fog that floats in the grey
and the wind, our breath-free
gasoline and matches, such a fine match
of bittersweet, sweetly buttered-
when we will set eternity aflame
and the earth to extinguish our ashes.
