Born to Burn
The fire will burn—
For that is why it was born!
It will rise,
And in its blazing ecstasy,
All earthly illusions
Will turn to ash.
Yet, it will burn—
Scorching love’s grandest palaces,
Reducing their golden walls
To whispers of smoke,
Charring every memory
Until even the softest song of the heart
Falls silent.
In the inferno,
The king of that palace will perish,
Just as he once burned
In the piercing gaze
Of an unyielding woman.
The fire will burn—
For that is why it was born!
It will rage as the flame of longing,
Seeping into the veins
Of the forsaken,
Or smolder silently—
A slow death
In the half-broken heart of a grieving lover.
The fire will burn—
For that is why it was born!
It will devour
The fragile joys of home,
It will sear
The helpless soul,
It will reduce to cinders
The golden threads of life,
For the fire knows no mercy—
It was born to burn,
And only to burn.