"Redeemer"

 

"Redeemer"

A stick of wood, dry and stricken by the smites of the sun,

is thrown into a raging fire,

Despite its cry rose and fell repeatedly,

It falls in with no hope of a rescue,

Then the flames began to lick it up ,

With it a tongue cloven with redness,

Until all that is left is ashes.

He comes quickly, a saviour,

Gathers the ashes cold as death,

He smells it foulness and decay,

Then scatters it into the arm of the reckless wind,

And it settles on all direction of this sick world,

To rise someday another tree of dry wood,

Same way it met death before its reborn.