On the fire spent

If by some chance they come back for us,
and throw down a rope that can carry
only one; promise me you’ll go first –
before the rocks begin to shudder, and the entrance
close like the wings of a giant moth.
There is still fire in your eyes,
and the world will much better off
having you alive. Give light to the cities;
go forth and become everything
you have ever wanted to be.

 

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