Long learned Wisdom

Tue, 02/13/2018 - 20:51 -- AbelPax

Lighting scorches fresh fields of bloomin buds

Their innocent pink petals singed by sparks of the electric blaze

The Old man sitting on the porch of his past and destined home

Watches the pasture he has always watched

The one that he ran through years ago

The one that the wind would sweep across and kiss his cheek 

With the smells of ribbons and curls

The same wind now plunders through the valley

Remaining him of the chases of evil that he narrowly escaped

As the blazed approaches

He does not budge from his chair

He stairs into the flames and sips his coffee

For he knows that

Flowers and flames may cause pains

But only he and God know where lightning will strike a tree

The thunder rolls and bowls like a child throwing a tantrum,

but even The child stops in remembrance of a burning pain on his bosom

Lighting may strike, but God cracks his whip to tell the light to return

The man’s eyes reflect the roaring glow with a stern gaze into the soul of the blaze 

For even the fiercest wildfires are cowardice of water

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