Last jaunt millionaire leaving, turn off the lights

Did you drink in afterburn
that chalice searing out the onlookers
loaded now in the hope of temperature
blast off unreached by normal lives
as you leave this burdened atmosphere
for even more high flying strata
away from this azure hope
below your indulgences
strung like gluten over working lives
slowly moving in the clay domestic
each mass now not distinct
or visible through corporeal guesswork
reach for their pockets again
the stretched hands of ambition
clutch at everything for height
this third stage evolution falls
back from the dark void implosion
to where a child lights a saved candle
catching at an imagined star
it’s always been there
not for your taking, plummet now

Magritte – from The Fanatics

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