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A fire lit upon an altar

Of hopes and pleading.

Get me gone from here;

A prison entombs me.

Voiceless, I rot.

The fire is sacred.

An obligation

To keep alight,

But he sends wind

To snuff it

And flood to quench

The life out.

Dare not to feed the fire.

The altar is its end.

No need to seek its safety.

The creatures are

Already here.

The hopes that

You have offered

Have been consumed

And burnt.

The dreams that may

Remain will be

Beaten out in time.