The burning begins.
A canary bursting out of her core igniting flames reminiscent of the sunset in its path. This small creature had no idea the quake it had unearthed, swirling around
making love in a robin’s nest.  With enough patience you can start a fire by rubbing two sticks together, this little bird had been rubbing an eternity.  It did not notice the grey bellows of smoke it was creating, nor the fire that came a century later.
Tearing deeper with every breath, Gaia’s flesh, inside out like the paper peeling back from a lit cigarette.
She became exposed ash—but not enough to fill the urn.


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