If I was a seer,
I would’ve felt the fear
—seen the danger that was near.
But I was blind,
The window to my soul was open
And then things came in;
Paper, lust, lies and a matchstick.
I was a sightseer who lost his sight,
It was clouded by smoke.
When passions ignite
And run amok,
One can’t simply take flight,
Because the smoke takes away sight
And suffocates the will to fight.
You seared me and left
Your mark on my soul.
I am still bereft,
And I fear for the coal
Of the memories that stokes
This inferno.