the sky falls in crystal
reams which cascade, bless
those tiny greens in murmurs,
whispers of laughing whims.

celebrate
the burning of the burnt,

they fly through footprints
and the fire all at once,
a pyrrhic birth, perhaps for
the epitaph of sorry stumps.

finally the whisperings
cease into silence of
a spectrum's symphony,
an eternity of life.