Ashes: What is left over after the flame goes out.
The fire of anger. The fire of lust. The fire of enthusiasm.
Wholeness in pieces.
How do I function in pieces?
My heart over here; my hand over there.
Even if they retained their wholeness.
I am broken apart.
Vulnerable to the the threatening wind.
Or I could soak into the ground.
The earth could fold me into itself.
Make what was once me part of something else.
Become whole again as something other than what I had been before.
Something other than me.
I can be looked down upon now.
Without ability to make any expression.
Other than as ashes.
A time of assuming the identity of ashes.
Of being broken apart.
Not quite nothing.
But getting there.
Threatening to not be.