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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