For the Heights (Edit 2)

[Weeded]

Edit 2

Misty gloves meet molten sulfur
painting Ijen electric blue,
glorifying the solfatara-
breather's, the livings and the eaters,
darkness displaying the beauty of the night
miner gold's contrails.

They breathe mustard fumes,
drink acid metal,
they carry the weight of eternity on their back
up and down Ijen's summit
until they die.

Edit 1

Mist, gurgling in the volcanoe's pit,
gentle water dancing down the crevice
onto soot-blackened faces, tongues protruding like children,
sulfur workers working to the peak
just to fall in the pit.

The peak confuses heights
like crowns do kings
who think they're atop the earth
with seven saints and forty virgins,
determined to mine every bit of worth,
knee-deep in lava burning,
dying from the leg up
to get ahead atop the volcanic rock
to feel that airy glaze,
to see the beauty of it all,
men melting into one
for the mist.

Original

Mist, burning sulfur men
falling into the volcanoe's pit
for mist, a bit of shade,
the peak confuses heights
like crowns do kings.

Lava melts every touch
nothing but lava now
burning sulfur men melting
into one for the mist.