We see you at the window ledge, North Tower, floor 106, ruby flames sweltering at your back, slate smoke wavering at the edges of your silhouette. We see you lifting off, tumbling into liquid blue, your white shirt billowing like a flag. Down here on the ground, we are parting the red sea of crowns, sifting through the russet rubble of our past, fingering the crystal pebbles of what lies ahead. Your presence will forever drift among us, rising slow and soft as steam. We wish to soothe your crackling side, adorn your fevered head, bear witness to your majesty.
