Remembrance

And I feel a song in my chest;

It's the coming of winter, they say,

Adorned by jewels, lost amidst stacks of hay.

In your paradise of gods, like a filthy peasant, I lay.

Have I touched the stars yet?

Have I lost my fickle insanity?

Have I kissed you yet, love?

If not, then why do I bleed in your light?

Why do I suffer your moth's plight?

Is all I am to be burned,

To get a glimpse of your soul?

Do I sacrifice mine?

I apologize, love, the smoke of my cremation got in your eyes.

It must sting, right? C'mon darling, tell me I'm a nuisance; do not feed me lies.

-Swastik