I was so in love
With what we had made
That any sense of sufferance
Of punishment
For my actions
Became an utterance, stayed.
Lost in my satisfaction that
I had given you something far lighter;
I was so in love,
Stolen, a divine fire,
Like Prometheus.

one leaf left conjoined, on the
last tree in the entire world
that was planted not only in
the barren desert but also in the
midst of an eternal sandstorm
that ravaged and blinded any earthling
organism that was brave enough
to ask for a taste. except one man
was blind enough already, and his shaggy
gray dreadlocks shielded his weak spots
while he trudged on for miles in his
balaclava, listening for the wind
in the closest space to crack and give
a sign. and then there was the tree –
not flowing in the wind but solidifying
into stone as the clock struck
15,000 years and the leaf blew away and drained the secrets
from its roots and locked them
away for the Titans to find. the
man was 2,000 miles away, and he
had just run out of water in the
desert when he realized that the
shift was happening already. so he
laid down and packed the sand on
nicely and waited patiently for
the Titans to take him under and
ask him questions about life up
above.