Dying Ashes

I venture through the toiling of days Crumbling nights Ever hopeful though chanting septic cries, Dawn creeps past worn-out eye receptacles... and the ashen graves they see They once burnt benevolently for scarred hours But now reflect the red glow of dying ashes, Fate has laid them in careful rows beside the graves. Seen from above, they spell forgotten names and trapped grief. Each peck of the ghost of birds wears out a memory in turns, Each semblance of relief dies in the glow of symbols... A grave here A tear there Tied together by a string of clotting blood and a trail of distant love, Lined up as emotional tender for the dying ashes