The air You slit

A fire burning

feeding on black threads

Sown into eyelids

of all the corners

Consuming time

It is to breathe 
the slit air

you cut with 
your hand

through a window

To look for words

and finding them elsewhere

elucidating in the fire pit


when not

a void appear



like a wildfire

Burning ends

but it does not end

it is time

What is time to a fire?

Someone once said

"Grief suits you"

Then thankful

for Your gift

to dress me up

I wear you

like a jewel

with pride

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