Billowing Purple Fire

apocalyptic abrasions tear across earth and sea and sky crepuscular beast of no moon reveals and unreveals ambiguous forms of vapor from crack and crevice emergant close-mouthed apparition appears forever and ever nose breathing billowing purple fire rancid breaths from open mouths breathing hell exhale insidious tar-storm, mordant flame, red fangs in the brume funereal protrude beneath shimmering eyes judgemental from fire-gale the deadly vortex forms consciousness rapidly oxidates in the immediate surroundings of this revelatory conflagration billowing purple fire velvet and brimstone, a crown and a wreath to the lava-throne where upon a fire god sits the true god "The firestorm is incredible, there are calls for help and screams from somewhere but all around is one single inferno. To my left I suddenly see a woman." "I can see her to this day and shall never forget it. She carries a bundle in her arms, it is her baby. She runs, she falls, and the child flies in an arc into the fire…. Insane fear grips me and from then on I repeat one simple sentence to myself, ‘I don’t want to burn to death’" - Margaret Freyer, February 1945, Dresden, Germany.