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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #2223677
We have been here before
Rome is burning,
and as I sit here
I can not help but think
that we could have done more
to value life,
value perspective,
the chance to learn
what was just beyond our reach.

So now we sit,
time washes, hands return,
and the lessons wash away,
the fire dies
but embers remain
just out of view.

Time passes
and we cycle back,
fuel builds
and we raise the pyre
to new heights.
We pour the gas,
play with matches,
dance on the edge.

You would think
we could remember
the lash of the flame,
the pain of the burn,
the scars of this battle,
the festering wounds.

Death has come again,
and as before
many cry foul,
some take advantage,
words are exchanged
but reality remains.

Fan the flames.
Rome is burning.
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