Ancient Light

There is fire in the sky.

The ancients called lightning

that primordial fire

that made up humanity

their soul, an inner light.

Earth and water; wind

all we needed:

one to ground us,

one to move us,

one to fill us...

but fire—to light us.

And tonight there is fire in the sky.

I cannot see it anywhere I walk:

people wander here,

cold and lifeless,

earth and water;

where is their light?

The fire's in the sky.

Did they take it from us?

Or did the fire move them?

Are the people here

truly even lifeless?

Or did the light ever

even live inside them?

Will the fire that ignites us

keep us living after

or are the zombies walking

all that even matters?

The sky is red and blue

bright with lightning colors

and the ones they left here

like stones slowly rolling.

Then I see the lightning

lighting up their face;

their inner fire's gone

for the handheld promise beside them.

Prometheus' gift and Zeus' fearful judgment

but there's no worry now;

no fire to light us,

ambition to guide us,

desire to strike us.

There is fire in the sky,

but I'm the only one who saw it.