where it touches you

the cinder spray purifies you with a spark of pain

and life, the flinch -

the igneous glow,

compelled upward into the dark

by the slow immolate death of its parent sun

where it touches you

the fog forgets itself from smoke,

that this is not a scene of destruction,

softly singeing the coast into dusk

and where you touched me

I have transmuted

following these natural bodies

in passing from one state to another

destined for my last ecology

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