the layers begin to peel
shedding this
armor,
focusing this
vision of the edge
and the trail that guides us there
winding through a charred pasture
misinterpretations divide,
pulling the thread from the seam
cradle your head in your hands
pine
fester
open your eyes to the ruin
and dance in your wasteland
the rain can still fall from these scorched skies
and stitch the torn
