What are these fires we’ve lit,
these tickling little flames
that find out our secrets
and know about our names?
We’ve set them up before us,
we’ve made them all our own.
We ask them too few questions
and fade into the sun.
The world is lit on fire,
from end to end in flame,
each heart a charréd ember,
and naught left but a name.
We feed the fires with promise,
we let them grow unchecked.
Two hearts entwined in ruin,
two lives set to be wrecked.
We think we’ve got the answers,
we think that we’ll be fine,
but no one continues rightly
when they dance up’n that line.
These fires destroy our futures,
they lay waste kingdom come,
we’re trapped by who entrapped us
and doomed to growing numb.
When at last we find that one
worth each and every breath
we see the distant storm clouds
and taste encroaching death.
Even then still we wonder,
and let our fickle hearts,
and feed the growing madness
with all loves foolish arts.
Then we’re just left with no one
for life has claimed them all,
too soon we’re trapped in wishing
that life itself might fall.
How have we gone so far wrong
taking love’s fickle word
as all were needing, wanting,
to free us from the sword;
to walk our way to freedom
that leaves the heart no more
ready to give of itself,
to shrink so to restore
another person over
the every selfish pull,
to give and give and finally,
die to be ever full?
We think but in just one, two,
and then we’ve lost it all,
the clouds drift past beneath us,
we take that final fall.
The many watch us passing,
the tower of the age,
built of ev’r more than just two
of every human page,
the more things they cannot fail,
we’ve lost sight of the ‘us’
who is more than a tiny
spiral of falling dust.
And now the age is over,
its stars are burning out,
we who chose but to follow
have lost the chance to doubt
and tumble down to dust,
tumbling down to dust.

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