Dusk is Burning

A tree standing as a soldier on the front lines

dives into a burning ocean 

of glorious flickers and flames:

A tree that does not make a sound,

because nothing is there to hear it splash. 

It's dancing spirit cannot be seen,

because there is nothing there to feel it.

The world has become silent in indifference. 

Arms ache and stretch towards sun

as flames kiss her branches

with ravenous lips that leave angry marks,

bringing them tumbling down,

surrendering to lay among the ashes.

Life is enflamed in a caustic passion

born of Earth and Fire and manipulated by men.

Tree spends lifetimes reaching for sky fire,

and dies engulfed in its stinging embrace.

Destined as a shrine of charcoal skeletons,

Tree lies among brothers and sisters.

With falling tree comes falling fire 

and rising smoke breathes a heavy shadow,

as fire too forgets its own dream of reaching sun.

And in a sky of anguished colors,

his lonely lover falls again

to a familiar prison of dusk. 

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

Bailey Reynolds

Keep writing your poems are great and if Yu ever want to collaborate just ask

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