It Started with a mere spark –

 

This man strolled by casually,

Glancing aside to be captivated,

(Cause and Effect, if ever it were),

By whatever was to be seen –

 

But what ensued was not some thing

To be considered a normal occurrence;

“Rare” or “Chance” don’t do justice

To this situation.

 

He was separated from the herd

And at the edge of a cliff.

The young sky was crying

A Miracle,

A Budding Flame, –

 

 

Ever thin, as if from nothingness

The lush fire trickles a tear

Before surging a puddle, a river, an ocean

Of leafy, searing flames

Rippling in the wind like a bloody orange-petal flag,

Chocking and burning the air with noxious fumes.

 

The Budding Flame

Floats just over the cliff’s border 

Beckoning the man forward.

The blooming leaves

Tell wide tales of the fruit to grow,

                        Such fragrant stories

                        Like nectar to the ears,

                                                            While

The ebbing poison

                        Produce noxious, purple fumes

                        and sully the sweet, natural bounty.

 

From the flames sprout the leaves

Scything and Consuming the fire

Fueled by the sloshing pools of poison

Devouring the growing leaves,

 

Folding over, within, without themselves,

On and forever,

Consuming and renewing itself.

 

The Budding Flame,

Streaked with leaves and poison,

Flows in entropic dance and refrain. –

 

 

Unable to restrain itself,

Rippled dark verdant singes through the air

Like jalapeno-pepper tongues crackling,

Cracking apart air molecules,

Beckoning the lost, wandering man forward.

 

It bade him speak.

Who was he?

He moved a step forward with careless stride,

A walk with too much spine

And not enough thought,

“I am that is,

And that is, is always!”

Was his jactitation.

 

The Budding Flame

Cackled and the sky around it fissured,

Its bloody orange-petals oscillating as if shaken from their vines,

Warping the space around it

As if ether were shining through

Beaming its response:

Anyone but you.

 

“But my voice is loud and strong,

It rings like church-bells

Causing peasants and kings alike to flock from afar

                        To Me

From where ever they may be.

I am the center,

What I say is law

And believed by all,”

Blazed the man.

 

“I – ”

 

But his flame was dull.

 

Without realizing,

He had taken forward one step too many

And inhaled the noxious nectar’s fumes.

 

And he fell off the cliff.