No body no self no being has heard a fire's testament,
Oh what crime is hers to repent?
If perched by her on her crackles shall you ponder,
Many a reason comes to mind and yonder.
But none shall question the flame and her creed,
For what she does is earth's own need.
As for what it is for which she shall repent,
All shall be clear after her testament.
She has for ages existed tamed and wild,
In berths and attics for many a child.
Forests-She has burned and dwellings and graves,
And for eras served all: Sages or knaves.
She is mother to ash and godmother to mud
And father to flower and brother to bud.
She is to some a protector, executioner to rest,
She has killed some and some, fed from her breast.
And there's all much more for which she shall repent,
Which shall all be clear morrow her testament!
YOU ARE READING
To Nature
PoetryIf Nature were a Woman and spring her youth, She'd cry for a Flower and die of sloth.
