In a field of plenty a madman comes to end it all, in time he is stopped by God above |
-Alone Is The Flower- by Keaton Foster Alone is the flower In its darkest hour All around a fire stirs An inferno unabated Nothing combustionable In this place will be wasted Flames kicked up by wind Turn into a vortex of ends Nothing within its path Stands any reasonable chance Death and destruction has come And all of this Was started by a madman One with a well-defined purpose He wishes to kill everything Made of true beauty He wishes to end the world Starting right here in this field In the middle of nowhere special Way beyond the edge Of the vastness of this place He, the madman now stands Flame and fuel in his hands An evil grim cracks his lips A sense of I did all of this Floods his callous heart His mind races over what’s next The smoke rises for miles True darkness In the depths of dawn Descends The air is hot and thick Brutalizing meat and flesh Boiling liquid both in and out Creatures flee for life Most die right where they fall If the smoke has not killed them Then the flames quickly do Some scream out in horror Fewer and fewer are heard And before long Alone is the flower In the middle of the field In every possible direction Is nothing but scorched earth And the ashes of all That once survived here Closer the flames now creep There is less fuel to burn Less wind to drive the vaporization Of sticks, leafs, grass, and trees Until finally a circle is formed Around the flower untouched The last beautiful thing In every identifiable bearing Before the flames act Before everything is killed God so far above steps in First he cracks the sky With thunder so loud That it breaks the spine Of the man with fuel and flame And a twisted obsession To lay everything to waste He falls to the ground Spilling his fuel Dropping his flame Instantly he become ignitable Instantly he becomes a victim Dare it be said Deserving of what’s coming next God again shows his power He sends a volley of lightning Down from the heavens above A half a dozen bolts hit the man He stands no chance From the inside out His blood boils, his mind explodes His deepest innards boil away He will never rise again Upon the wind his ashes And his madness will be sent Just as the flames creek closer To the lone flower God unleashes his tears Sheets of rain begin to fall In endless waves Saturating the ground Quickly dousing every flame Nothing has been saved But the most beautiful flower In many profound ways It needed to be saved most In time all that was left dead Is again reborn The scorched fields will again grow Nature does indeed return in full regard Then just as God above Must have meant Alone is the flower No more… Alone Is The Flower Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |