The glorious tree

is dropping its appendages.

The trunk soars into space

shedding bark of parchment paper

leaving twigs like tortured jewels

on the turning ground.

There's a portal halfway up

pushing light from the other side of death.

There's a torn vessel

within the strange vehicle

that breathes for uncaptured soul.

Fired past the sun, growing

branches again, roots outlined

across rancid moons, giant

planets of lifelessness

caressed by its crooked orbit

offering no settlement, no

orchard of companions

to the supernatural night

or the rings of many clustered dawns.