Fade into stars as God machines. With our arms, we will shape the world. With this breath we become the world.
In parts I lie, staring at the clouds, and listening to the vultures sing. The husk beneath this shroud brings alms to fallow wings. Vines spring from my blood, wheat grows of my flesh and bone. The birds descend from above to lift my body from the stone.
A fair trade, my clay for a soul, so a pigeon thrives while I have passed. The mountain justly claims its toll to break the raptors’ fast. Their shrieks soothe as siren calls, their talons dancer’s hands: Why angels don demon shawls is not for us to understand.
I glide in feathers’ embrace, their beaks beckoning the frost, to fly past the fog, to rise into grace and join the loved ones we had lost.
The falcons roost upon the wind. I meditate until the morn, absorbing times I’ve loved and sinned. At light I wake, being reborn.