Burning Soul VI
In a world full of hate, you only have what you can take.
Dancing with the pretenders, it leaves a sour taste.
They’re squelching my fire with the anger and the lies,
And I’m a smoldering ruin — a lone wolf howling at the moon.
The placid yellow eye brings me back to the light;
A tenuous pact between rage and serenity.
Until it cracks under the pressure, golden yoke gushing,
Oozing onto the cold cement, reflecting back flickering street lamps.
The light pulsates and burns, charring the pavement,
Then a flash in the pan brightens in an instant.
As the light runneth over the rim of this soul,
The clouds break on the cliffs of desperation and toil.
Can no one hear the cries? Are we really so blind
As to ignore the crimes of the broken city on the hill?
Will the people rejoice to understand one another?
Will we accept the collective and grasp hands as brothers?
Because the fire will consume the weak-hearted who let it,
But for the strong it’s a power that cannot be abetted.
This could be our reignition, the spark of humanity
To cry out as one voice: I refuse to give in.