The poppies and buckwheat bloom
Little fires that have jumped the hearth
Right out from the sun itself
Scattering our world alight
Illuminating our path

And the dust we kick up
Reminds us where we come from
As it settles on our skin
A mourning dew
Of leftover ash
Reminding us of where we’ll go

Only in the presence of fire
Do we truly see one another