spirits answer the call

what a beacon shineth bright! with fledging wings beating tirelessly with holes in the heart wanting to be not in pain. an ache that lingers till the dust no longer settles with heat rising from earth's core. spiral away, with twinkle stars winking back. the clowns come out to play while recess is not yet over, the school master is chasing grinning faces without a clue. who goes there? the strings are pulled when a heart calls out, like whales song touching kin, emotions flutter like butterflies as the kernel twist. changed again. a siren today, tomorrow a glutton with a painted face whose mask has fallen. never mind - when butterflies pass golden fields then vanish. students peel back their skin, to become a school master whose name is erased. they pluck at twinkling stars high up in the air. puff: then vanish like the butterflies whose story did not end. eaten from the inside out, the spirit gnaws away at flesh quite pretty. feast away at nothing, save the last penny for a ride home when the bus will never come. trickling away is time slowly bleeding out, with faces like yesterday and tomorrow lingering. weep out that cold black heart, filled with tricksters in a circus filled with school masters wearing grins. they've come to have it all plastered anyways, to ransack at mayhem when kins no longer respond. the last call did sound, like a song fading out - then spirits blinked lazily at the heavenly hosts, no longer winking - eons perhaps. what is time when stories unfold with cocoons shredding off. blast away at painted colors touching fire, with heat unsettling, with dust before life was breathed in. immortals bemused with choices made, when students with no names rush to steal back time. alas. dust no longer moves, with all that sparkle gone, then did eyes, ears, senses, become aware. of this glorious world whose flesh never did discern - a choir of stars witnesses to the end of the story.