| The river had brought with it much that day
|
| From driftwood to blood from the ember
|
| Some things were hidden
|
| While others were seen
|
| Yet the man somehow could not remember…
|
| Having ambled away from the water’s banks
|
| To return to his tribe and their lights
|
| He soon found a failing
|
| Of flesh, and of mind —
|
| They were no longer robust or bright
|
| What he could not have seen
|
| Was the sickness upstream;
|
| Those abandoned remains of the wasted
|
| What he could not have seen
|
| Was the sickness upstream;
|
| Those abandoned remains of the wasted
|
| What he could not have known
|
| Was the blight of the bone
|
| In each ebb and each flow he had tasted
|
| Dawn found him ailing, delirium rife
|
| Those he loved feared his illness would wander
|
| With time wearing thin
|
| His young eyes clouded in
|
| As the odour of smoke became stronger
|
| It was then that he heard the sharp crackle of torches
|
| Carried past him by men from his clan
|
| A panic cut through
|
| All the life that he knew
|
| It was over before it began
|
| Rope looped his wrists and held tight to his veins
|
| As beside him his relatives sagged
|
| And with tears in their eyes
|
| Through confusion and cries
|
| Out towards the wild flames he was dragged
|
| Like billions before him, regardless of form
|
| It ended as chance had decided
|
| So briefly contained
|
| An inferno’s refrain
|
| Having powered and angered and guided
|
| At the heart of the blaze, awareness dissolved
|
| Light ascended devoid of desire
|
| From a trail intertwined
|
| Life and death strewn behind
|
| To the stars, it returned, from the fire |