Nothing Worked

Seeking peace,
absolution,
redemption,

I slept for hours.

It did not work. 

I awoke unchanged.
I lay down again
in the still-dark 
of the post-dawn
bedroom; lay dreaming,
wishing myself  
toward some penance
to excuse myself,
some vision
to explain myself, 
some pain to serve
as sacrifice
and re-admission fee;

nothing worked.  

I was not released though
I flew, long flights
over grand countries
where I could not touch down,
cities and forests
full of safety below;

nothing worked.

What works?  
I ask the sky and 
all the soil, I ask
all the waters.

If I have to sleep
longer, I will. If I have to 
wake into fire, I will.
If peace is only to be found
in a crash
and my own ashes,
I will burn,

for I have been flying 
in my sleep seeking
what works 
all my life
and half into
the next
and I do not think
I can believe 
in a safe landing
anymore.