Into the Burning

(By Sil, the 18th of July, 2011, London)

There won’t be a song
For you tonight
Or ever
My fingers are mute
Could we just stare
Into the burning
My soul, thin paper
Dissolving into smoke
A doodle of delicate curls
Yes, I’m broke
It’s curious
It’s absorbing
Watching the entrails of a bonfire
So, let’s calmly
Allow the world to be reduced
To watery miasma
For a while
Stretch your arm
Touch the heat
But don’t fret
Don’t run away
The stars themselves
Are blisters
Enslaved by the beauty
Of all-consuming plasma.