Garden of Embers

Twisted and decrepit, we struggle through the fields Dawn an ocean in our footsteps, we chase away the light A clangor of bells herds us in droves toward the gallery To disperse with weary hands this landscape of bone Our turmoil scorches out the seasons in a militant burn The feral dawn stoked high and wild in the hell we made Those of us who remain yearn for a sense of home In this forlorn abatement, silhouettes call my name Burden grips within; the jaws that cripple serenity Encased in a house of glass, I am depleted by the sun I feel safe in my prison, arms open in rejoice Fingers of light grazing luminous walls, embers settle in my blood The wind dances across these lonely leaves like a flock of nervous birds Heavy limbs carry the hangman, eyes wide and daunting in his sorrow The skyline is beautifully on fire, and we marvel at its gruesome, twisting light Reaching out into the firmament, as if to stop the stars from falling As a figure of shadow, I pass through the wake of life and death Dressing wounds weathered by years of affliction The beacon of my viscera incinerates the truth of all form A heaviest of hearts, and a fading radiance bleeds into the night