A cool breeze whispers in my ears
That I'm radiating things I shouldn't be.
I'm burning the coldness of winter
Into the smoking hotness of summer.
These are signals of a hidden truth
Lying low below the surface of my self.
I read the traces of carbon marking the sky
And realise they are my own.
They come from me yet come to me
At the same time. What should I think?
I cannot tell, so I imagine universes
Contained into each particulate of dream.
I soar high, drifting away from my cells.
I am transformed into multiplicity
And I embrace the wind without even realizing.
I see my former self below, sleeping, burning,
So I meet up with others like me and weep,
And weep until my ashes fall down
Like flakes of snow
Covering me with their blackness.
A warm breeze whispers in my ears
That I'm cooling things I shouldn't be.
The sun's come down and light's left me.
I'm alone, a black mass of carbon
Amidst an ocean of snow, listening
To the emptiness of my surroundings.