That Which Purifies
It is raining a soft ash
over the city.
It has been very warm lately.
Two firefighters have perished.
One a married man with
two adult children,
the other
only 35,
married,
and only weeks
away from becoming
a father for the first time.
The work of God's hand
is undone by rabid
sparks feeding a
senseless hunger,
one we cannot
understand.
We were so alone once.
Cowering beneath darkness
waiting for the first ray to break.
It is no wonder we have worshipped
Apollo, Ra, Ah Kin and Uriel.
It burns closer by the moment
living to consume
until the whole world
is ablaze.
No comments:
Post a Comment