Sulfur to Rose (poem)

[Underground_Network]

Flash through scenes of black mist
And wake to the sound of red.

Sirens flash and no one hears the sound
Of high-pitched shrieking. It must be the birds.
Run with the wind and catch no breeze,
But hold onto the leaves that fall from
Dying trees. You know you want to.

Dash through the path surrounding
The winding creeks, but don't dare fall into the water,
Drowning is not in the realm of possibility
But water in the lungs
Is just as deadly.

If the blazing sun turns orange tonight
The clouds will sever ties with the solace of daytime,
And the rain will fall from shadows instead of
From cumulonimbi.

But regardless of a shift in climate, or climax,
Do not raise a finger if it will only be used to point,
For the point in raising a finger is to signal. A disjointed motion
Intended to assimilate conjecture with realization,
An attempt to decipher fumes of sulfur
From the bitter thorns of a
Bright red rose.

Wake to a swirl of gray and red
And ponder where the clouds
And the songbirds and the thoughts of drowning
Have run off to.