• Like the fire crying
    Burning away into your eyes
    Listen for the wood’s dying
    Bursting with unfulfilled lies
    They follow the command
    Put in their place by your rightful hand
    And you burn them
    Not to damn
    But just to stay warm
    Dry you after the storm
    And there is an irony
    Did not the wood also suffer tribulation at the gale?
    But it is uncanny
    The ways in which we Men let our brothers grow stale
    and toss them into the fire, crying