"~Remnant (Proj. 14)" by Christopher Heisserer

Moving as lit hematite afrost in the atmosphere's icy bite,
The most winsome windmere gloated a seat beside heaven's gates--
Saint Peter himself could not help but smile at his podium;
The seraphim themselves would've liked a fourth pair of wings.

Yet myth it was not, and spiraling upward at an incredible speed,
Dashing through the lightest of airs and brightest of scenery--
Aaron perched upon the most silent of metallic bird-machines;
Lilting, simply lilting, and screaming until he saw the heavenly sea.

Dashed like quicksilver, he was strapped tightly as kneeling,
The pressure of one leg would turn him left, the pressure of right--
The same as the left, and freeing, freeing as ever he was before;
But never did he dream this machine could hold the pain he bore.

When moons as numerous as stars shine down, and some with life,
Some with death and all as precious as the day they were born--
Evenings bear gracious momentum there, atop the silvered windmere;
Somehow, somehow, the planet is not so far, not such a wish away.

Why would one perched upon his machine, a child of the sun, scream?
How could, in this air, the tears cross his face and glisten bare--
When such beauty, such clarity is held as sacred and profound?
He doesn't want the world, doesn't want the unforgiving ground.

Floating effortless, as on the beams of moons and carried lightly,
Lightly, and far too soon his own departure of innocent sight--
He knew of the earth, a boastful vessel, the thing of his dreams;
The place of his birth but not here, not here, not this.

Dead; dead! All the seas were dried, all the songs were sung,
Soft to sighs and sung no more, they had crossed that divide!
To the heavenly dead, they knew not of space or the truth it held;
Even out here--there was no heaven, but there certainly was hell!

Earth suffocated itself; and Aaron was one of two that survived!
The half to the puzzle, the peace to the war, and they had lived--
Lived, and loved, and grew to rest in the peace, the peace;
He could not forget it! All that he knew! Earth was shattered: dead.

There should have been two windmeres to watch the peaked mountains,
Two pairs of eyes, both aglow with insight and interest and innocence--
Should have been. Should have been. Would have been if only Hell
And its candlelight hadn't found them there in the peaceful otherwhere:

His friend, companion, his last thread of peace: dead, too, dead
And deceased; his eyes flickered twice, his smile tried to soften;
The boy had known! As even the most careless had seen-he had known;
Pulling Aaron close, he whispered, whispered as a ghost, already gone,

"I have known you. You are my brother--! You are the half--
The half I died for! Do not grow bitter for--for me, do not break--
Yourself under what remains--for you to conquer! A brother!
Nothing more--nothing more than a reason to live--a reason--a reason..."

The sun cursed Aaron's heart; it bled red ice through his shirt and clouds,
Stammering down to the sightless and splashing against them as rain.
He crushed his hand inside itself, fisting so hard the knuckles screamed--
He screamed! He screamed! And in a torrent of fear, he fell--