Eruption

Have you ever felt

like you were made

to make silver

rather than gold–

Out of depths of the earth

in a refinery eye

beholds all we want

all we do

all we see

“But is that it?”

We ask ourselves,

softly, in the ashes

“Am I just silver?”

“Am I only gold?”

We pour shiny liquid

into a box

and expect

the expected to happen

but what is it,

but the unexpected

“What then…?”

We whisper,

we question life

itself, flying

and soaring

like a gale of dust

with copper wings–

We are no longer birds

nor have we have ever been

human enough

to understand

how lava flows

into the sea

dissipating into smokeless

smoke,

as our hearts beat

uncontrollably–

It is a star mist

molded by black magma

of only death’s matter

with fire hotter

than fire itself,

And all the jewels,

diamonds, gold plates

and silver coins

melt away

into feeling.

 

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