I see the forest
here, from inside my glass pinnacle.
It is drowning.
I watch as the tide rolls forth,
a crackling, all-consuming
band of roaring flame,
to wash away trees.
Ash peppers the pristine window
from which I watch
as fires are lit, one upon one upon
one
by figures in suits
that resemble Man
but are a different being altogether.
Living green quickly withers and dies
as veins of the red tide, popping and
jumping,
delighted as children,
gleefully bleed into what
once lived, saw sun, kissed moon,
loved stars.
And the Demi-Men
in their three pieces and ties
setting fires.
Setting fires.
No one to put them out.