what a beacon shineth bright!

with fledging wings beating tirelessly

with holes in the heart wanting to be

not in pain.

an ache that lingers till the dust

no longer settles with heat rising from

earth’s core.

spiral away, with twinkle stars winking

back. the clowns come out to play while

recess is not yet over, the school master

is chasing grinning faces without a clue.

who goes there? the strings are pulled

when a heart calls out, like whales song

touching kin, emotions flutter like butterflies

as the kernel twist.

changed again. a siren today, tomorrow a

glutton with a painted face whose mask has

fallen. never mind – when butterflies pass golden

fields then vanish.

students peel back their skin, to become a school

master whose name is erased. they pluck at twinkling

stars high up in the air. puff: then vanish like

the butterflies whose story did not end.

eaten from the inside out, the spirit gnaws away

at flesh quite pretty. feast away at nothing, save

the last penny for a ride home when the bus will

never come.

trickling away is time slowly bleeding out,

with faces like yesterday and tomorrow lingering.

weep out that cold black heart, filled with tricksters

in a circus filled with school masters wearing grins.

they’ve come to have it all plastered anyways,

to ransack at mayhem when kins no longer respond.

the last call did sound, like a song fading out –

then spirits blinked lazily at the heavenly hosts,

no longer winking – eons perhaps. what is time

when stories unfold with cocoons shredding off.

blast away at painted colors touching fire,

with heat unsettling, with dust before life was

breathed in. immortals bemused with choices made,

when students with no names rush to steal back time.

alas. dust no longer moves, with all that sparkle gone,

then did eyes, ears, senses, become aware. of this glorious

world whose flesh never did discern –

a choir of stars witnesses to the end of the story.