Sparks of a dying star,
a constellation of sorrow,
fall upon me.
The flame’s fist,
a punch to the gut,
sends me spiraling
into the quiet blackness of my mind.
A dream unfolds:
a film reel of a life I could have led.
I see a version of myself laughing,
innocent and unaware.
A sun-bright child in a world
painted in vivid, uncomplicated colors.
But the fire is patient,
and the dream becomes a lie.
The burning ember is a single, hard truth,
searing its reality into my memory.
The picture burns away,
leaving only smoke.
The eyes of that happy child
turn to stone,
a reflection of the world
as it truly is—
gray, shattered, and without light.
