Not mine

Not mine

Not mine

A rubble strewn sky

Diaphanous white handkerchiefs

Wind-blown. Shambling

Against the blue of hope and space

That forms a shroud for us

Not just to me

That aching distance

Has always been a dream

And conciousness is gravity

In our high-blown minds

That are anchored here. On the ground

Not just mine

The last thought

Before taking action

May be fatal

May be an inspiration

May be an epiphany

Not just to me

And so they go

And so they go

And so they go

Those that are on the cusp

Young men and women

With secrets and dreams

And unexploded fears

Congregate and dissipate

An intense human tide

So drawn to beauty

That tragedy attends in flight

They fizzle and burn

A contagion of energy. Inchoate

Beautiful in an unstoppable rhythm

That leaves scorch marks

Stains and wounds that are the innocents

Inevitable even before

It was known

And then the youths are gone.