Smoke the only traceOf its existenceSurging up to be one with the cloudsSwirling shapes that remind of somethingThat we can’t seem to placeBringing tears to the eyesThat should have already been there

Embers, once flaring with vitalityNow ash as they gently land on ourIgnorant shoulders

There is no line betweenThe:BurntBurningUntouched

Reaching down without availStaring at the ravagedYet we can’tSeem to tell our bodies, tell our legsTo move down the side of our mountainLush greenAgainst the backdrop of red seas and black sandHollowed out insideBy none other than ourselvesAs the cracks start to appear and weInch further upAwayForever the onlooker