Burning Bright

Photo courtesy of Google images

Rotting wood and glowing dandelion seeds
Arise in summer’s lingering breeze.
The people of this town smile fondly at stone and stationary wood,
Sashay back into the shade, into the cool shallows of a swollen, muddy river

And are still.
But come to us in the evening heat
Or afternoon freeze
And you will find the restless masses;
Minute men and women watching for a smoke signal,
One promised to lead us away from this slow-breathing eternity.
In summer’s dark heart –
In the heat lightning of evening clouds
Or the piercing brightness of the afternoon –
Discontentment comes.
Wandering roads stretch out like sighs between the gasps of memory.
A prophesy incites evening storms:
Man will be given fire,
Creation and destruction is ours in evening's empire
And it’s beauty will forever be its perpetual motion:
Red, glowing phoenixes arising from forests of ash
Until the lonely house collapses again.
But we could never master war
neither can we bleed peace
Onto white, dusty roads.
Our souls could never commit suicide
Onto pages without words
And I could never burn the stacks of paper in my mind
For the burden of memory carries far more weight
Than that of paper thoughts.