Father fire, above your head I see the
Vague, misty dubiety of everything,
Till, burn, kill, churn- the ocean yields the fruit
Of the stirrer's soul; like water not stone
Is the way the forces flow forever
Father fire, winter-foe, summer bringer,
I see in you and from you- the way the wasps
Gather around with a peculiar peace
Like a party of weary travellers
Sat amid a dark forest in hopes that
Father fire would keep the wolves at bay
But death is a hound far greater than hope.
~Ajay
4/6/18
