Weighted steel tugged by gravity, A mile above this tranquil house– its payload designed so carefully– is yet unreleased from the mouth, for there is danger involved: I’ve hung Pandora’s box And it, wont to fall, Damns as it drops. slowly swells desire– a bloodlust is taking hold for a world entombed in Fire. The image of a once happy home Brought with only a directed word to dissolve into shadowed foundation, Encouraged by petty quarrels endured, Matures to become a palpable creation – resentment resides within every thought and fiery images are fanned ‘til they fuse In a flash into sound, suddenly brought On a table within a voluminous brew of word, sentence, and ireful mind, And the room is left in silence. In the wake I stand, alone, uttering penitence.