Kairos Perosis

Hot and dry air
Blinding sun
A canvas of fresh pavement
A breath of freedom gifted by a council of Gods

The gods of sticky hands and juice stained lips
The gods of burnt skin and cold grass
The gods of the constellations you can see at dusk

Gods.

They have more words
than I can keep in my mouth
and they allow them to be
unsaid

These gods trade hands and faces
and expect nothing

They are in every unfurling leaf
and dripping petal
Every cloud silhouetted
Notes plucked
Decomposition

Summarized in a life
lived after death
It is the beginning
found at the end of things.