To the Victorious People,


Match Strikes and lights an inferno

Of love peace and joy.

The dry wood below in that cold steel furnace

Yearns for a touch of that glorious inferno.

They cry out, “ Oh so brave is that

Glorious match! That match whose flame

Inspires us with hope!”  And the match,

Hesitates, to take his destined action, in fear

Of his lack of understanding, of his own meaning.

Why must he light the furnace? Is he fearful to

Disappoint the furnace below? Or does he fear his

Limited short morality?  Maybe he is called upon,

Some divine message he must deliver? No, not that...

Nevertheless, the match plunges into the furnace,

The furnace explodes in a glorious blaze, blaze,

Blazing away: Thanks, love, peace, and joy.

As for the match, exhausted, he falls, falls

Falls to the cold ice tile floor. His Corps already

Forgotten by that glorious blazing furnace….

So Pathetic….so absurd….


So Long,


...The Match...


This poem is about: 
Our world


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