I’m on the pink pedestal above the clouds

Where the air is rare and crisp

The world below me is a world asleep

Awash in a myriad of colours from the stars above

The day is not dead and the night is not alive

She does not stir, a beautiful behemoth at peace

And here I stand with the sky on my shoulders

Held aloft by the winds of my ancestors

My face is torn and tense and my mind is in a warp

My soles are blistered and my dignity charred

But I am alive, alive alive

And I can scream into the setting sun and the jeer the dying day

I can laugh well into the oncoming night

And dance on the cusp of the dawn

For my tears of elation shall fall as raindrops on your soul

And my swiveling dreams will echo as whispers in eternity

The weight of the world on my outstretched arms

The billowing dawn of the night upon my cheeks