The Life of Things

Burning plaster. Flames alive.
The artwork on the walls would die.
The grandeur of the home become
no more than just another mausoleum.
Importantly, the things retrieved themselves
within a thought of molten images revealed.
The walls were melting. Fate was sealed.
Escape impossible. Yet for the things,
there was no fear of mere survival.
Immortal in the modesty of particles
long lost amid the ancient shining seas.
Without repent - for all they were was innocent.
No grand farewell, nor funeral spent
in weeping. No guarded tomb where
moisture started seeping deep inside.
Particular, they kept themselves
alive in every particle of ash.
This too would pass.
Flames never lasted very long.
They withered in a mist of song.
While like a symphony of stars,
the life of things went on and on.
Deep in a reverberation.
High within a flight of light divine.
For the things of man did not believe in time.
And kept their lives in spaces that still rhymed.
Where harmony absorbed itself, and
glittered through eternal verdant skies...

? Michaelette ?

2/11/2004
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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