I seek patterns in the fire-tinged sky

As the night pools outward

And the rusted day lies

Upturned and empty

–

A few stars burn a path

To a new name and refuge,

Falling over razor wire

On an exile’s journey

–

A few worlds answer back

To stoke the inner furnace

With the wild urge to tunnel

Cut a breach,

Scramble over

–

I’d rather be the frightened prey

On a serpentine road,

Slowly winding away

From the full weight of certainty