Elegy

Near the end of my journey, the sky rains rusty gold, grains from heaven cleanse my earthy pores —Bites of crimson filth spread a plague of exhausted stars I let them devour in glee— I am no longer attached to my physical form; In the eyes there were too many deaths— azaleas, sandcastles, and rosy dreams The air scrapes off sin, along with skin and the mess underneath I can barely see myself—the porcelain blue peeks through the silhouette of my toes I feel feathery— At the end of my journey blossoms a field gently sprinkling pink

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John Fleming

Date: 8/11/2025 1:30:00 AM

Pretty powerful stuff, Jasmine. Yes! I did rather enjoy this. Nicely penned! :) john

Tom Woody

Date: 8/10/2025 5:21:00 AM

You write poetry like a pro. Stanza two really stands out: "in the eyes there were too many deaths," really emphasizing the transient nature of all things, including us. Pink blossoms ain't a bad place to land softly