In an ancient land there lived
a man built of stone.
Shimmering rubies
were his bones.
He counted life with the birth
and death of suns.
Knew not a single joy
nor the sweetness of a kiss.
Such fumes of fancy fall barren
on souls that do not burn.
He slept under a sullen tree
craving silence
from a world of ceaseless hiss.
One morning he awoke
gasping with such force
this world almost ripped apart.
Some dormant magic
had stripped away his ancient stone.
His bones of crystal
wore a raging luster
all through the night.
Darkness plundered
and a bed of roses
grew from the light.
He took a stroll
down a familiar path.
His first delight
a blue mountain bird
sank into his shoulders.
Though the air was eerie
he had never felt
so serene.
With every breath
he became lighter and lighter.
Soon he weighed
no more than sunshine
unshackled by the bliss
of a spotless mind.
He started to float
up towards a sapphire sky.
All who could see
were humbled by his celestial shine.
Before long the land he'd known
was no more than a grain of sand.
His fresh eyes saw only darkness
and a blazing sun
of dazzling lime.
When his flesh kissed
that lonesome star
this world was lost.
It could never contain
a pulse of love
as divine.