There are many types of fire that can light a soul
One is a comfortable warmth, another is a dangerous burn
The worst is the one that scorches your bone marrow
A hollow ache that bounces and echoes inside you
At the thought of someone who had set the timber alight
That fire is the worst, the most despicable and crude
Because once it is lit, it can never be put out
Dirtying the hearth forevermore with its cursed ashes
Until your bones turn black and brittle
Your lungs weakened by stark dark and gray
You would wonder why such a flame exists
Why anyone would ever dare to set it alight
Why anyone would harm anyone that way for eternity
There is a simple reasoning, a simple truth.
Humans can do nothing but harm themselves.
They will set each other on fire, a cruel darkness within
That is only rivaled by the blackness of cursed ashes
Hurt, hurt, kill and destroy, maim and carve to death
Dirtying the hearth of others in revenge
My hearth...it used to be pristine.
Clean and clear of tainted ashes.
I have given up trying to make it pristine.
The only thing I can do right now is
Remove the ash as it piles up, festering on the ground.
YOU ARE READING
Life's Memorabilia
PoéziaIn haste to make light , one must first conquer darkness A battle between white and black But no one ever seems to mention the murky gray mixtures in between As the quietness of silence covers my ears, I plead to heed my words For there is just so...
