Our Fractured Lungs
through the eyes of
smoke pollutes the sky
forming demons dancing in the
wind; horses flying to the fields
a native woman wrapped in lilac
blowing out the candle
but there is no flicker of
the flame, no orange lit illumination
directed towards the
meaning of breathing.
the sullen mountains breathe in
the air, and the grass grows daily.
humanity is stuck in a transparent,
far off universe we aimlessly cultivated
for a sense of rising like the lilac woman once did;
to dance like the demons in their dreams.
we breathe in the same air as the hills,but together
we are lost, broken pieces of the flame.
our curiosity burning up our precious gift.
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