The Turning World in Flame

In the twilight of the world,

a blaze, fierce and unfettered,

captures hearts like soft callings,

veils the night in orange exhalations,

the earth

unraveling beneath the feverish dance.

Once they sought refuge in the warmth,

the laughter,

the stories spun from embered tongues,

but now the heat climbs higher,

an orchestral surge,

an overwhelming applause,

vehemence that refuses to age

with the final breath of dusk.

Flames devour history,

crisping memories into crumbling ash,

every reverberation of laughter,

every tear shed in the glow,

devastated by the voracious tongue

that flickers,

hungry for what’s left unspoken.

The bittersweet taste of unsaid goodbyes

paints the air heavy with smoke;

like a performed ritual,

it wraps the fleeting,

enfolding hopes within its grasp,

until all that lingers is a haunting,

the haunting shadows of shimmering light,

a sigh dissolving into the night.

In the end, there’s silence,

this requiem of smoldering remnants,

the earth’s old skin,

reduced to soft remnants on the wind,

a promise glowing

to rise again from the ashes,

to warm the cold of heart and hearth,

transformation birthed from the blaze,

as everything consumed

slips into memory.