Writing and Expressing your views

Man on Fire

Red fires descend from the sky,

Burning into the depths of his eyes,

And crepitate as they engulf his hair,

In linguas of fire.

The eyes, the eyes, gaze out in

Placid indifference, while all around

Tongues of fire salt lick at the very air

Combusting in the night.

No stars here; no limned moon;

No calm contemplations on the fiery

Pools below; only fire and burning,

And passionateness sleeping in those lidded eyes.

Saint or madman? Artist or lunatic?

Bashes it count to a adult male on fire?

Can mere words show the desire

That fanned the fires into a conflagration,

And set the canvass alight? Oh, I long

For a fire to devour my desire,

To quench the thirst of my longing,

To dip headfirst into the flames

That destruct all witting thought,

All empty lies, all words written on

Cracked parchment. I long for the

Purity of fire, the peace of flames.

If I walked with you in the Garden

If I walked with you in the garden,

Like Adam or Ezekiel, or your friend

Enoch, I would not inquire you why.

Instead I'd give thanks you for the

World you made, for the stars

In the skies, the birds of the

Air, the fish of the sea, and all

The animals that abound there.

And I'd inquire your aid to preserve

These things, so that we don't

Destroy in one selfish moment

What took you six years to build.

If I walked with you in the garden,

I'd inquire that you make man's

Burden visible light enough to bear;

That you give us strength to accept

What we must, and courageousness to do

What must be done. I'd inquire that

You give us wisdom, so that we

Could be as merciful to one

Another, as you are to us.

I'd inquire that you allow us tolerance

So that we halt the senseless

Bloodshed that masquerades

As belief in you.

If I walked with you in the garden,

I'd demo you my heart, and ask

That you mend it, so that

I could always do what you require.

I'd inquire for a song to sing so

That work force might retrieve their

True calling, and not the vain

Lusting after things to make

Them forget.

And when at last my clip pulls near,

I trust that I have got done enough with

What I've been given, that I be

Allowed to walk with you in the garden.