The Moon in Me
The sky is a question mark
which leads me to reminders;
pages filled with only lines,
words burnt to ashes.
Fear burnt words fly from blazon stone;
flurries that rise and flutter.
Doubt is a lasting red coal amongst
the most flammable, but never lasting tinder.
The aftermath lingers in silence,
the combustion mirrored in the moon.
the wind blows again, makes waves,
spreads seeds, eases heat.
Alas the coal settles, but with future
and the ashes to dust to dust.
-Meeee :)
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