Returning to the sight of the setting sun,
my heart brim-filled
with the cooling blaze,
watching the star burning out
from the brink of the ledge.
By the time I slammed into the ground
the blood was dry, dark red like a priest's robe.
It scattered, a powder of crushed bone.
After this, the light burned through the broken body,
sifting, sifting, sifting into the dirt,
breathing with broken life,
breathing with the tattered earth,
broken into millions of fragments of sand,
black with the granite bones of mountains,
the memory of the slow growth
of mountains moving upward,
and then, suddenly on the shore -
my life-blood red and vibrant as it once was,
repaired, restored, and whole in the coming dusk,
yet leaking still,
reddening the moon-lit sea.