Boiling

by Iris Flores

One day

Looking up towards the sky

It hits me

We look out towards the sky

Not unlike

out towards the sea

Across an ancient, alien medium

I witness stars — islands far away from home

The clouds roll in, high tide

I’m safe ashore, but! Passion

Don’t we all want to explore?

Explore my Self and what I found is nothing

An ancient, alien, empty thing

Maybe, reaching out towards the stars

I find meaning

I find life

But Death — our mother

Her grasp is more than strong she’s perfect

I find pain

I find struggle

I find all we know is only but a dream

But Death — She calls us down (no. in)

Her hand comes up (no. out) and pulls us

A tree

Grows tall

It lives

It dies

Comes back home

It melts into the ground

A body

Grows old

It suffers

It laughs

Shits itself before it dies

It melts into the ground

A person

Grows sad

They suffer

On a building or, perhaps, a bridge

(or maybe, sitting on a tub, holding in their hand a knife?)

They jump — out towards the stars

But Death — She calls us down (no. in)

Her hand comes up (no. out) and pulls us

Life, in the scope of all things true — so short

Not tall

We know how far away the stars are

Like us, lonely

Death, in the scope of all things true — alive

Soil

The womb of all things on this lonely rock

This boiling rock atop a furnace (a God, the Sun)

We call it Earth and we are bubbles

Sea foam blooming on this beach’s sand