Existence

Once, through wraith-ravage, I was forced to witness the Fall.  Forced to judge the worth of a thousand glowing embers.  Once, upon a timeless.  Angels burning in a river of stars.  Frozen fires, war-torn.  When I couldn't tell the difference between ashes and snow.  A horror of eclipse engineering, my cherished one.  I contemplated these wraith-physics as I wandered through the wreckage of every poet's moon.  Ruins, breathless and grey.  Temples and eternity.  A diet of locusts and wild honey, at the edge of everything.  Who wouldn't run when faced with that?  But then, my beloved brought back from annihilation's edge.

   I have no other lovers, Yash'a.

   Not truly.

 Just women kind enough to hold these broken hands, mending them for moments.  I adore them but I tell them nothing of sky, or how I fell.  How the forest caught me.  Held bleeding in branches.  Healed by the eye of the sea.  The bluest, brightest vision.  Ana, dyomene.  Of wing and song and grace.  Diamond dark as the Fields of Luna, yet arose caring with bright petal.  And in those grey fields the ash-tree still reaches toward evening.  Chlorophyll melodies it sings, hidden in dusk.

   A girl did heal my holy, a girl did heal the sea…

 Ash-seed of Eth'iri, I think, half-lost to mortal kith.  Planted now in new gardens, and new lives.  In this life I retraced my steps.  Diligently following the river of gold where embers fall or further.  Through those mountains I travelled for a long, long time.  Until my Father bid this dreamwalker to rest awhile at Mother's magic.  His fondness for kind ones, his sympathy for tired ones.  You do remind me of him, Yash’a.  The way you left those touches in the temple, offered so sweetly.  For all the lost souls.  I wept at the healing of it.  I’m no longer alone.  Isles of glass and blackbird, sung to life again.  We still exist.  Hope is with me once more, like a miracle.  That which is; resolute.  That which might be; imagined ever closer.  Light – barefoot and dancing.  My girl is gifted, creating, and cherished by better kings.  The vision is joyous.  Almost blinding in its beauty.  Rising, eternal.  One step closer to peace.  Kasi is so grateful for each kindness you send him, Yash’a.  This distance made sacred.  Where I can truly feel my own gladdened heart, timeless once again.  It carries you always.  A river filled with love, not ashes.  Every ember an angel aglow, by the thousands.