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Tuesday, July 19, 2011

#200 Burns it Clean

The heat is unbearable
Cinders and ashes
Float in the air
The humidity hovers at 90 percent

How ironic that I want fire

The living fire
To cleanse all
Sweeping as from heaven
Leaving only potential
In it's blackened wake

I add more fuel
Piling it higher
The flames lick at the treetops
In answer to my stoking

I poke and I prod
At the cherry coals
Hiding at the bottom of the pile
Urging them to eke out a little more heat

I will drive the demons away
With the very fire that borne them
My poker waves in triumph
As the fire gets it's head
And starts eating it's way ahead

Off we march
My fire and I
To avenge the wrongs
And leave no right standing

Good and bad
Both take the heat
The time is past for judging which is which
None shall be spared
In this mad march to the sea

Froth spills from my lips
As I whip the flames
"Faster!!" I cry
It obeys me
With startling speed

I have many a mile to go
Before I can rest my fiery head this night
On my asbestos pillow of hope
Gazing out upon the black plains of the world