Ashes, ashes, we all fall down
And yet — if we do
Won’t we be carried by the wind
To every corner of the world?
Won’t we descend on fertile soil
And cause new life to awaken?
So what if we fall?
Let us be brought down
That we may drop
The unnatural yoke of gravity
And be transformed, transported
Weightless, wafting through the air
Alive, aglow, and not a care
This poem is Part 3 of The Unholy Triptych