The pretty birds burn from the sky
There feathers a wick each
Alight
Trees ablaze,
Leaves turn ash
Branches burnt matchsticks,
Then life turns
Black,
Cinders
Ash,
What was, now life burned out
The people run but
Flame is alive,
It capture's each one
Frees there soul,
With fire,
Screams released as flesh melts
All burdens  burnt away,
Now flesh blows in the wind,
We were born from fire
Now the world burns,
Returning to what it was when first born.