A yellow chiffon sunset
buries itself,
particles of ash
rise in auburn sun-rays
like souls
flocking towards
white-light.
The stars- road-signs
in the vapour purple-blue pool break
of a new day,
point nowhere.
The Sky- a turquoise
shrine, haunted by
familiar voices
warnings we choose to ignore
afraid of facing
whatever's there
in our pasts;
our ghosts-
anchored to sin.
Stir in the air
and burn up
in the scarlet sun.
