There are ashes all about even swirling in the air,
Every breath a reminder with each choke oh so fair.
May hap a storm will arrive and wash away this mess,
Or perhaps this blaze will just extinguish the rest.
Though it seems more likely that we will have to live,
With ashy remains of the past that cause us to writhe.
There is a scalding all around rising up from the sands,
A heat so intense it now seems to parch our very glands.
Torrents of crackle and snap begin to assault our ears,
A visible consequence of destruction feeding our fears.
Beyond the boiling point there is no simmer in this brew,
Only the tidal wave of fate that our children will rue.
From ashes this all started and to ashes it shall return,
The sins of the lemmings are erased only if they do burn.
Torrents of deep black smoke reach towards heaven up high,
Forming another ziggurat only without any real reason why.
Yet time is on our side as one day these skies will clear,
Long after the perpetrators of this farce are dead my dear.