torn skies rip pathways into fire,
curves are acknowledged and abandoned,
edges are released from symmetry,
passages of burning hunger
hover in anticipation,
mystery is penetrated.
dropping, I unfold in fragments,
incinerated shapes of melted wings
ignite the cold airs of descent
and darken the beckoning landscape
with gestures of ash and flame,
as my shadow grows.
intimate luminosity is lost
consumed by the scorching of the fall.
this is the cruelest language of the sun
this blue impenetrable codex,
this stained banner of belief
flying a farewell.
Torn and reassembled acrylic painting and poem by clinock