Risen Up

As the Smoke begins, It embraces.

Black and grey are those soft laces,

That waltzes towards the ground.

Quickly as ever, with little sound,

The Flame is a thief in the night;

It stole the comforts of home and Light,

Its Shadow engulfs the bliss.

And so thus continues the Genesis,

Ashes to Ashes, we all fall down.

But out of the Ashes, we will rise.

The stench of Smoke penetrates,

Just as Light creeps through the drapes.

No longer blinded by misconception,

But a Flame is lit by a spark or reaction.

We will see the Sun rising again,

As we ascend, like Smoke and stand.

Like flowers awaken between green leaves,

We will move on and be set free.

So out of the Ashes, we will rise.