Build me a pyre, one grand
enough to kiss
the sun; immolate me
in Prometheus’s flame. Sacrifice
the sum of my mistakes,
lies untold, a cowardly
child, hardened by tectonic
pressure. Something better
lies inside, packed in straw
and wool, layer on layer,
set in clay and dried
in the blistering heat
of a supernova; this avatar
looks nothing like its host.
Build me a pyre, so I may
cease to wander; lay me
on kindling,
let flames take
all that I am. Flesh
gives way to muscle,
to bone. Erasing memories
and conditions handed
from father to son. In the embers
a seed remains, hardened
by spite, colourless, reflecting
all but itself. Limitless
potential. With this
we can start again.
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