Contemplating On Empassions' Flame
As the flames licked like a whorish tart,
that encompassed lustfully at it's fuel-
seeking it's heart;
principalities, in duel, instructions fit for a fool.
A fool that plays badly at his part.
My eyes scanned these flames,
the horizon and memory of names.
Of places and spaces shared,
and of these spaces,
the faces that once were there.
They were there.
They.
Will not remain, ashes, unclaimed.
But will be unleashed again, you will see, the same.
I know God has a plan. Even for a drunk underachiever-poet-wannabe. Like an all consuming flame.
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