Multiverse
I journeyed
up and down this park,
up and down this wall,
over and across the ceiling
of the old dimension.
Fire burned in my chest,
though blizzard refused to spare
the wind.
What kind of murder I witnessed,
I fail to tell,
though I know that the soul
sat cornered and defeated
within.
The birds refused to come,
though I had met them shortly,
before,
in the new dimension;
and so I danced on the edge
of this razor blade
we call justice.
The sphere shifted without shifting,
within itself,
threatened by the unshakable misery
of nations.
I'm not dying! I shouted on the inside.
Fire burned in my chest.
"I'm merely being born,"
so did the wind avow,
choked by the statue's
numb
hands.