Ashes to Ashes
Slumbering the daylight hours away, as smoke plumes rise on air, like whispers on wind they carry. Black and acrid, they can singe your very flesh, leaving you retching and gagging, the dense black vapor does smother all. Eating the very air you breathe. Deep inside your being, from the depths of your conscious you hear a voice. It urges you to stir, in soft yet crisp tones, as a scissors, does cut through paper, the voice does cut through your conscious so that you are only aware of it, and it is only aware of you. Ashes to ashes, all around lays a waste of chaos. Half seen, half hidden in the dense vapor of destruction. Eyes do search the soot stained mass. Crying in pain, the stinging, does penetrate your very living soul. Your throat does rasp for air. You are silenced, ashes to ashes you absorb the black mass. You have roused from the smoke plumes rising on the air. Black as night from the ashes you spawn. Fire spewing every time you breathe. Alive with each breath you are stronger, with each breath, the flame does flicker. It dances and takes your whole being. As you breathe the flame does breathe, as you breathe the flame does grow, as you breathe your breath, becomes living flame. You dance, in flickers of gold, and glimmer in your glory, as you are made of fire. From the flame of truth, from ashes to ashes you rise, triumphant in flame. For you are dragon borne, dragon born of flame. Your flesh is the black charred mass of cinders, but your blood is all flicker and flame. Consuming, devouring and destroying all that it touches, only to be borne again. Ashes to ashes.
By
Penny Young



