You were cast,
before the molten lava
ever cooled against
an evening sky,
and sparks ceased
to burn in instant brilliance.

First steps made into ashes
before you knew of the pain
buried beneath warm earth
stretching across an expanse
so wide, even you failed
to see the end.

For morning hovers,
over the face of this place –
creating life in each
swift shaft.
But you, you only see
the steps behind you,
shadows on your face,
and your hands – burnt.

Fluid moments,
bubble at your lips.
rising red to this surface
in mock remembrance
of a day, not so long ago,
when fluid moments
ebbed and fell –
skin to broken skin.