When the World Burns

When the world burns I will lay in your bed of roses-feel the lavender of your skin cool the heat of my wounds. And you shall turn your cheek to the comfort of my pulsing heart, where we then embrace the view of this Devine tragedy called life.

When the sky ignites into sparks and flames-streams of rockets to end the earth, we shall watch as if we knew it so, the inevitable end. That despite it all, the gloomy, final hour, we will hold our heads up high, and smile.

We will wipe our tears in each other's shirts, and surrender the false hope of a perfect world-that without destruction hunting our dreams, we will stay conceited in the chaos keeping us steady.

What aspirations do you see beyond a darkened view, when the smoke has cleared and the fires extinguished? Covered in ash and scars and scabs, will your weary eyes find my deep blues longing for you?

We will look upon the red lit sky, the blistered sun, and the scar torn horizon-ready and armed for what death will bring. For new life cannot be so without first, fatality-a rebirth of purpose to sinew.