Above it all

I see you there
south of Iceland:
the sky is clear 

Red and orange beyond the horizon
eat up the earth, but you
are above it all

heading home
out of the snow:
beauty, not the beast

And here we are, above it all too,
flying toward heaven
not seeing the abyss below:
flames licking at the grass…

Feeling like grass, 
I watch the wind increase, 
and something that seems like the sun 
creeps along my body

as if it is not sure where to go
among the hills and hollows