A bolt of lightning
in the distance
lights up the cloudy night
with the memory
of ancient fires,
and the scarlet memories
of ancient agony
dim and fade
suddenly awake.

The lightning,
a giant crack
in the floodgate
that holds back time.
And time,
like a loose gown
slips off her body
and the memories of
her savage beauty ignite
the ancient pine,
leaving behind charred wood
dark like the scars
on her wrinkled skin
and the imaginary warmth
melts into the night.


And she cries out
in craving memory
of the withered giants
who in times
long before civilization
stood amidst the molten rocks
and tamed her fire down
with their strength
and their flutes.
And her cry
shatters the lullabies
and runs through the night
like a beast in searing pain.
And the wind runs wild
through the woods
like the hands
that once stroked her hair
and a sudden serenity
wraps her aged soul.