Daniel Davies Poet I do not know?

A Musing Arsonist

There he stood
Rooted by love
To the land.

There he swayed
A welcomed guest
Of Neptunus Rex.

There he soared
Swelled by pride
Into the blues.

There he fell
Beneath waves
Of emotions.

There he flowed
Down river
Into depression.

There he crawled
Into her arms
Sought compassion.

There he felt
The fire desire
Roast raunchy. 

There he burned
At both ends
A wax museum.

There he went
Down the drain
Of incarceration.

There he went
There he stayed
Until his final day.

There he goes
Where, who knows?
Here, he shines.
 
There he’s kept
Treasured twice
By his absence.

There he left
An empty bottle
I drink from daily.

There he mused
The arsonist
Who fired my clay.

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