a starburst does not forget,
no matter how bright its flame;
it does not burn away
the thread of memory.
it consciousness,
of brilliant orange spectrum,
can still envision,
with fiery inner eye,
scenes of wrenching pain;
its feverish epidermis
can still sustain hurts;
its seething auricles
can still drink in insults,
murmured in the barest of whispers,
insults which echo timelessly in loud orbits,
artificial satellites that resist destruction,
close as they are
to the devouring element.
no matter how bright its flame;
it does not burn away
the thread of memory.
it consciousness,
of brilliant orange spectrum,
can still envision,
with fiery inner eye,
scenes of wrenching pain;
its feverish epidermis
can still sustain hurts;
its seething auricles
can still drink in insults,
murmured in the barest of whispers,
insults which echo timelessly in loud orbits,
artificial satellites that resist destruction,
close as they are
to the devouring element.
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