Diamonds

when everyone has turned to ashes
a beautiful rain of ash dancing right in front of me;

i will be staring wide-eyed
that such a miracle could happen;

that shooting stars have power
dreams come true

after all;

i will be laughing madly – it that a lunatic i hear?
so the dead still whispers
the ashes have a will
the ashes carry their spirits
the ashes sway

not in accordance to the gale,
a haunting wail
that carries them not
but wraps their woes

perforating my skin, flesh, bones.
alas, im free
when everyone has turned to ashes.