Scorched,
like the eyes
of my former self.
Divinity pouring from your fingertips-
how wholly you have come to encompass
a part of myself I don’t really need.
I forget where I’ve come from at times
and you remind me-
It doesn’t matter.
We all end up in the pit.
What wrath have I incurred
so as to fall prey to this
being called sadness.
The whole of my heart
was not fitted for this war,
and I don’t have the means to retreat.
Kingdoms that I can’t see
pry at the edges of my field.
This is no ship,
but I’ll do the captain’s duty
nonetheless.