The streets are being laced with kerosene, men with limbs made of matches
Begin to walk in a march
The curtains are becoming lighter, ashes to the wind
The cries of those unaware, become a song to the ether
Hands are held tighter, kisses become more sincere
Eyes become more forward, words more clear
The sky is more orange, like a Monet painting
Beautiful, such a sight to admire
As giants of ash topple the buildings
Love becomes more real, more scarce
As lives become lost
The gutters become full
With the breath of lovers
A hush in the chaos