Fire

Burning…does that spark any distinct memory as in location, stimuli, an inkling? Burning, as in unstable state, seethe with what it means to turn matter into smoky air, burnt bridges but cremation and incarnation of time and place, thermomagnetic transportation perhaps it was never there in the ashes or stars carried away in heat waves. A ray of sun then magnetized on top of the red dirt, bark dances low and white in motes on the trail before me, nymphs and fireflies and feel always lead to castles and sweet escape of now, smolder and embering to meet me another way. 


Painting by Philippe de Champaigne (c.1645-1650) in  [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Earth-ling

Pleasant, soothing at it sounds seemingly to some, Mother Earth may be a callous symbol to Others.

For arguments sake, if this Mother is no longer responsible for her children-

Then why do we need to claim

Heritage, Hierarchy, Habituation, Home

By relation-dirt don't hurt no

Ship of Fools

as if entitlement and document were worth trading or grinding down.

Apes with tools erected schools of thought, others say Respect your Elders even if given shorter straws.

Piles and miles we move dirt as if we made it matter more, who is keeping score, who cares who matters

Who dares to entertain the road, let the line lay and bears all the load, but no resemblance-to us,

She is the soul maker of Beauty. 


Painting by Herbert James Draper [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.