October 16, 1834

Floating softly o’er the pale blue water, Small tufts of ash spin and twist, As raging blasts of colour burst from above. Peaceful is the harbour while the land is frantic. The brick and mortar crumble, The shrieks and cries drowned out by the roar of flames. Looking down from heaven, The gods cannot help. As the blaze rained down o’er the water, An acrid scent wafts through the city. 800 years of history, A day and a half to rip it down, Disappearing into the rubble. The truth of disaster, Lost in the thrill of it all. The sultry air thick with smog, A city short of breath. Parliament is aflame.