Fissure

Blank

Blanket of snow to fight the warmth;
A fire lighted and doused
And rekindled anew;
Each time it finds more fuel:

Buildings, bridges, human flesh,

The very air is choked with ash,
Until there's nothing left to burn.
So why embrace the light?
Why cherish the destructive passion?
The fire merely destroys.

This most recent monument,
A thing of beauty and purity,
Glazed with the faintest wash of red:
Symbol of love,
Symbol of life or death;

The blood surges through veins

And from them.
Color of the hellish inferno,
Now consuming all that was left,
And merging with the falling sun.

Blanket of ice to fill the void,
To quell the blaze that builds it.
With every flame, another piece lost,
But the cold will calm the storm.

The fiery fissure vast enough,

The Age of Ice will rule.
And the fires melt away.

Oblivion

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