We wander in the smoke
Of the fires we never should have fought
But we thought we knew
A thing or two, about calamity
Having burned the world around us
So many times for such small reasons
That when the rains came
Like a transcendent ritual
To clean out the sky
Of the cinders of our sins
You’d think that would have been enough
Of a miracle to rehydrate
Our choking spirits
But maybe we were meant to burn
In the unexpected beauty
Of these Armageddon sunsets
Full of imbalance and entropy
Where the dead wood of you and me
Needs the lightning
And the imagined ending of everything
To find a place
To let the green things grow