we are the ice

[O.P.A.L]

the flame burns on
without a doubt
a flame seems to never burn out
and when the ice came over
the flame just washed it out
and as the water
filled with self doubt
streamed across the land
only moved by the wind
came to a mountains end
but the water pooled
a pond full of life seemed to sprout
grass came and flourished about
dancing its blades across the mountain
loving the breeze as it saw the wind call out
the grass born to the water
from the earth
aided by wind
burned by flame

but with the blades charred to ash
from this ash it seemed to start again
danced to no end

until the time ends and all is brought to rust
O.P.A.L.
"What matters most is how well you walk through the fire" Bukowski.

[Redbeck]

A fine poem, from whoever owns flowing pen amongst the esteemed collective that is O.P.A.L. Redbeck