it burns
fierce and brilliant
scorching every surface
inside and out
engulfed completely
for eternity
or just a day
until it finally dims
falling
down
to a fine silken dust
with magic daring enough
to stand against
a storm
raging winds, torrential rain
the wicked clap of
fate’s thunder
shaking it into thin
hills and valleys
tributaries of God’s anger
opening in the cracks
filling with the dark rain
of days gone
but when the clouds part
something stirs from within
a thing born without
fear or pain
simply awakening
a fluttering that presses ashes
into wings
glowing like ropes of sunshine
lighting up
the dark
coaxing itself loose
free
to open it’s wings
in fluid breaths
sending death
to the wind
with a flurry of hopes
dreams
and
wonder
gone
but not without leaving
scars
behind