Dark fumes in the air,
Engulfing morning’s souvenirs:
The doze of freshness,
The promises of innocence.
Putrid burnt wood,
Filling every corner and nook;
Banishing thoughts bright,
With skeletons of dread and spite.
A piece of paper, charred:
Burnt out stories of eggs and ham,
cindered letters of love, perhaps;
flirting skies it otherwise couldn’t have.
Earnest flames of burning hues,
Devouring life and death, and all within:
The concocted niceties and blunt miseries,
Broken corpses and sentiments therein.
A glorious destruction! The circle of life!
From ashes to tender twigs,
From the singularity to the world as is.
In death, the omen of life,
In destruction, auguries of existence.
Beyond the obvious 