He looks at his hands and asks,
What do you know?
What can you build?
They turn up, palms honest and calloused
We create nothing you don’t dream
we hold and love
we strike and shift
but let us fiddle about
as your mind wanders
and see what cradles we invent.
He looks at his loneliness and asks,
What simple good are you?
Where have you taken me?
Around a corner, it speaks humbly hidden
I have no influence in the world
I exist, simply
I plague and soothe
but let me come to you
as you forget and weep
witness the beauty of broken men.
He looks at his fire and asks,
How will you scatter me?
How will you suffocate me?
burning in the center of a city he never loved
the flames do not speak
the glow illuminates nothing
His conflagration reduces his life
it’s heat leaves nothing extraneous
Pieces of him float into the wind
even his hands and loneliness.
Defined by the man he has lost,
All is now accepted,
All is now alight.
