Heaven is burning. Samsaran Hill, my old friend. A bed for bleeding bodies. The sun coughs up light onto a weeping city. My home is on fire. I would have never known the wind was homicidal. He would never have known he was homicidal. I would never have known God was homicidal. Spiritual parricide. Kill the Father who looms above in the loveless skies. No. I will close my eyes first. I’ll speak to nothing. Dream of no one. Death is the back of eye lids. I’ll listen for your voice. I’ll search the clouds for your face. Feel your breath in the air. Kiss your skin in my sleep. Heaven is not burning. Heaven is bending.