conflagration

His hand held the fire of aether: he was rent of all night. It was fear that held him silent in the halls of tomorrow but when one was called to risk the flame he was swift. And he was destroyed. Laid waste by the scouring scarring skipping flick of the blue-eyed fire of phantasm.  Conflagrated by destiny’s gaze, his own eyes popped, pouring as tears of certainty. His grasp held no waver unlike the failed tongue, now lost to bright tongues digging his throat’s cave. Outstretched and twisting he blackened with joy

as the hope consumed him

And cracking breaking bursting forth was newborn flesh of bold light. The fire’s fingers crept and split open the boy’s carapace. Consuming his inner things of breath and blood. Becoming his air and heart and mind. Tunneling in, ripping out the dust of days. His revivification an instrument to hymns of ancient newness. His spine respun, his ribs reracked. And last his eyes: where tremulous now echoes of fierce fire, where bowed now bound to the lands unknown, where wandering now fixed in the uncertain song of insuppressible wind.