summon the fate of one more fag.
Sulfur scented lightning flash
the unmet tolerance of oxygen sacks.
We lack a name for a famed feeling
whose greeting startles us back.
It pauses, healing,
mulling over it’s epitaph.
under unfolding guise and without name.
Your Gemini guide the flame
Mind the unknown futures.
to the foxhole known so well,
or say and revel in the
now flooded out and in by a new wave.
Whether we chase the tide
or let it carry us away is no matter.
Growth will not become
from the shore.