Ambers fell into ash
Rekindling the world no more
Than hollow life buried and hallowed.
Rolling up as thunder
Foreshadows the suns brilliance blacked out,
Rolling a thumb down the flint
Sparks the lighter,
The sky raining down no sympathy,
Clouding no gift from heaven.
Greener grass sprouted from the grave
Of where that ash dispersed
And smoke cleared like
Fog dissipates in the warmth of morning.
Life was like a Swisher Sweet full of stress.
A head-ech ending high,
Burning harshly slow.