A poem inspired by the Muse of Cold Earth.
No Gods
In my dreams I’m
Open
I’m like an ashtray, collecting fragments of the things They Burned
In the eternal fire
For
Winter passes
Summer rages
Spring cries down into the streams
And fall
Comes when you least expect it
Like that unbearable look of disappointment on your face
A great separation
The chasm where
Worms do not die and I’m left to gather your fiery snowflakes
Like mementos of all we never asked to be
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