Meditation III: Delirium

Slowly, I woke up.
Betrayed by my own senses.
Giddy with the consciousness dawning
Like sunrise, warming my bed with divine warmth and it's liquid fire.

There was a gaping hole in the sky.
The trees never dared danced.
One stood at the top of the hill.
Twilight ebbed and faded at the expense of its joy. It's leaves frozen.
The night had come.

I saw a man walking up the path, slowly,
Towards the tree I saw him reaching out his hand.
He's tiny from afar.
He was worshiping it, the tree's life persistent.
But it stood indifferent.

Eventually, it bends in pity. Or is it because of it's own suffering?
Does it want to lie down and die?
Has it been a million years?

I wanted to cry
But I was nothing. I was air.
I was the fire on my bed.
Burning, dancing, and cursing.
The pain on my skin.
The melting flesh.

I always knew there was a way out.
They were soon to end.
The tree would eventually be cut down.
The man would age and grow weary.
The hands would rot.
Dirt would welcome him.
And I will fly, fly in the sky where the fire would never reach me.