The cosmic spark
Descends upon the parched earth,
Illuminates the sky,
Splits the winds in half,
Takes purchase in the land,
In the branches of the tarnished oak.
The darkness flares,
The clap of thunder sends the mighty
Beasts to shudder,
Fleeing the scorched soil,
Fleeing the sundered oak,
Fleeing the ignited grasses.
At first the flame seems but an afterthought,
With eyes still burning,
The mighty flash still echoes,
Through the thunderous night.
Ears still ringing, the dread begins to creep onwards,
The humbled grasses wilt and turn to ash before its stare.
The flame spreads with an uncanny vigor,
Spreads with an unnatural hunger,
It cannot be charmed,
Instead consuming all within its path.
The trees begin to howl, to spit, to squeal.
Soon the forest will be devoured,
The mighty beasts soon trapped,
The call for mercy soon extinguished,
The birdlings in their nests
Left alone to fend, to dissipate,
To cower in their unforgiving sanctuary.
There cannot be a sweet ending,
With all reduced to dust,
The crackling of the forest floor,
The cackling of the needles thus,
The flame engorged like fatted pig,
The life force drained from fire’s lust.