The season that is playing now
brings forth a sorry tune.
No more Southern breezes.
Sweet memories of June.
I find I am outside the ring.
Within I tend the fire.
Ablaze not only leaves and sticks.
I burn my soul entire.
The flames lick my wounds,
but do not heal the pain.
Fire condemns, it won't create.
What's gone is gone and naught remains.
And yet, I cannot walk away.
This fire, it is mine.
Born the fruit of friction;
Immortal and Divine.
What purpose had I hoped to serve?
It never works as planned.
The servant now the master,
I must feed it on demand.
Eventually, I am consumed;
A victim of attrition.
The flames will wear us all away
once we provide ignition.
I find I am inside the ring.
I no longer tend the fires.
Ablaze is only leaves and sticks.
I've burnt my soul entire.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 8:45 PM UTC
The season that is playing now
brings forth a sorry tune.
No more Southern breezes.
Sweet memories of June.
I find I am outside the ring.
Within I tend the fire.
Ablaze not only leaves and sticks.
I burn my soul entire.
The flames lick my wounds,
but do not heal the pain.
Fire condemns, it won't create.
What's gone is gone and naught remains.
And yet, I cannot walk away.
This fire, it is mine.
Born the fruit of friction;
Immortal and Divine.
What purpose had I hoped to serve?
It never works as planned.
The servant now the master,
I must feed it on demand.
Eventually, I am consumed;
A victim of attrition.
The flames will wear us all away
once we provide ignition.
I find I am inside the ring.
I no longer tend the fires.
Ablaze is only leaves and sticks.
I've burnt my soul entire.
