Cycle

There was a time when a stone was a stone.

Things were great then.
Marble remained marble,
Monument and marveled at.
Back when coal was coal
And it burned real nice.

My people have been burning since the son rose. Crawled out from rock crevice and flew right into the sky. A lot of people still pray directly to it and swear it don't hurt or make them blind.

Some bodies don't burn so easy.
My body can breathe in the sun, transform it
into amber.
I call that a miracle.

They say the Sun will consume us all one day. Or god will send another flood, but this one is going to rise from the ground instead of rain from the sky. You could almost call it a miracle

When I die,
I don't want to be burned
or buried in a box.
I know all things crumble,
so leave me with the dust
and I'll never be a thing apart again.

 

by Joseph Flores

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Eileen Wu