O heilige St florian verschon mein Haus, zund andre an
Maybe it's not exactly candlelight.
Stars are lights, too, and burning yews, and yours,
Fire consumes. Light kills a little bit.
Darkness is cool. It grows, They say, and Time
Chooses the side of nothing. Figures. Got
Nothing? Invest it. Darkness futures pay
Dividends, if some more of what you have
Is what you want. Or burn a little light.
See clearly what is going on for now.
Wood burns because it's meant to, full of ash,
The forest made of fire-stuff. The streams
Are water-soluble, the hills are hard
To fathom. Which old Greek said fire starts
Your day, your every day, your morning toast?
When wind smells like end of days, your house
Is green belt in potentia, the song
The sky is singing, Burn your baby, burn.
This appeared in Pens on Fire.
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