Tomb Worlds

Soma Sema

The word was made
flesh and lived on
as a bird of
soul, evermore.

Sun bisected,
bleeding grapefruit,
autopsy of
incurable,
cosmic tumour.

Every man is
a planet in
themselves subject
to the spell of
a necrotic 
nebula's flame.

Fire within an
opaque bottle
dies to the dark
before ever
sowing stars in
the sallow fields.

Chance of divine
resurrection?
A boulder is
removed from there,
eyes open like
excavated
ores glimpsing true
light once again.

Evaporate,
child of ghost fire,
become one with
anti-matter.
Out of the tomb
world, I glance back
to my void's flesh,
cage left behind.

I see moths in
flight across the
disembodied
universe's plains,
I am with them.

Even in the 
deep grave of stars,
there I am.