The children roam,
fresh eyes surveying the wide world.
The temple burns,
heat rising like righteous indignation
into the mournful sky above.
And She begins to let go,
the simmer and crackle of regret
echoing through her palatial memory
like the sky burn of incendiary devices,
like a ceasefire after a war of emotion.
Time always slips past us
like strangers boarding a train,
like the sudden laughter of an tickled infant,
whose life force can only move forward,
arcing jubilantly towards the horizon.
Fire brings forth the black carbon of renewal,
and we grip onto what matters most,
releasing burdens into ash,
forgiving the universe,
at least for one evening,
for making us face the night sky.
and the moon follows
our hearts like a lost puppy.
Tomorrow comes the dawn.