Non-Erotic PoetryBurning PyresThe darkest night
draws them out
near the burning ghats
smell of flesh
the dance starts
she is Him he is Her
Their shadows play
against the pyres
of the brave
in amongst the battlefield
littered with carcasses
driven by their minds
Wracked together
as T/they reach higher
Ever to the Burning Sun
is the Raven
to fly Them away
A dip of its wing
takes the eagle away
and she
a dot
in the
gloaming sky
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