There is nothing better
In the eyes of men,
Then watching fire consume the world,
The way it’s always been.
Our race to the funeral pyre
Runs along rivers of our dead.
Ours is a head first rush.
The bones rattle in stiff protest
As we crash through wall upon wall.
Never tiring, our bloody feet trample
Over the ivory pillars, pulling it down,
On top of us, laughing.
This is what I think
When I watch that flame catch that branch
And spread across the world like frost does on a window.
I can’t help but smile, and have the light bounce off my teeth.
God help us all.
It’s beautiful.