Aurora II.

Standing on the edge, her feet permanently embossing,
Leaving her mark on the moss for when she is gone.
The sun warms her neck as she stands, arms with grace spreading.

The wind catches her hair and it caresses her shoulder,
Like a whisper, a comfort, a guiding spirit.

Below the noise, the dirt and the hurt seem so far away.

Up here, on her concrete crucifix, the light creates a halo around her face.

From here, all she sees are the clouds, the birds, and the breathtaking beauty.

Her bare toes curl on the ledge as a breeze lifts her soul.

Just one breath closer to where she’s meant to be.

The world stops spinning and she thinks about breathing,
And how with each breath now limited, she feels finally alive.

Her feet lift off the floor, in slow motion she floats.

The wind in her hair, the breeze in her ears, the golden silence begins.

A smile on her lips, a new deity of the city.

Now a glowing rose between two thorns,
Beauty halfway between the spiteful ground and halfway from the roof,
The most perfect and euphoric flight.

Not for this paragon an end she doesn’t want.

After all, this isn’t a melancholic end.

Nor even bittersweet.

For this is no end at all.

Her last breath will be her next, and she will truly awake.

In a fresh golden field,
With perfect blue skies, and Aurora filled nights.

And she will live on.

Forever, this brave angelic aura.