A lone wanderer crosses a scorched land,
the hills a hue of golden death
made bright by slanted rays of a star in egress-
and the sky is on fire.
An acerbic wash of green sickens the skyline
like a chemical spill boiling,
slowly spreading
belching clouds like plumes of smoke-
Shades of charcoal and ash
Mask the setting sun.
A city rises out of a grey shroud
in the distance
A mere dream it appears-
Blink and it is lost
to humanity's invisible crimes;
The skyline, though veiled from sight
cannot cover the truth-
The sky is on fire.
Stretching fiery fingers of caution in ominous warning
Upon the remains of mankind's creations
And the lone wanderer passes by
in silence.
The landscape is dry as bone
empty but for the moaning wind,
a single sigh of things long lost,
and the remains of trees that take the form
of monsters long forgotten;
skeletal silhouettes against
a sky on fire.
Nature casts long shadows, even in the twilit hours
brought into sharp relief
when hungry fire of the day meets
the flint of ice at night-
consuming all beneath the battle of their opposing wills.
Night falls and smothers the warmth
of evening's last tongues of flame,
And there appears like the burst of a broken mirror-
a crystal smashed to pieces-
Projecting its glistening shrapnel across
the carpet of the sky
Amidst prisms of light:
The sharpest scarlet which deepens to
blacklight.
The backdrop for priceless jewels,
glittering stars light-years away
that burn in the past
for a lonely wanderer's eye to see-
A sky on fire.