We the people
We have a brotherhood not with each other
But one with Conflagration
What are we but tongues of Hellfire?

The flames come to us in our dreams
Whisking around within our minds, shining out from the eyes
our souls ignite and flare in the tumultuous beat.
The flames seep into our fears
Our private terrors are flushed away, becoming charred and shriveled
Their substance sucked out and consumed in that primal light.
The flames reveal a glittering trail
Our complaints slow only when the way is clear

Fire contains flighty assurances
That can be caught and held in hands flesh and blood
So what if the miasma of chance makes them burn, crisping the skin to curl back in blackened furls, melting away the precious fats to a delicious sizzling pop, and finally cracking the white of the bones with a spider’s finesse.
Only then is the smile truthful
Rest assured that the ignition will flense away your impurities
And you may have seized tranquility.

Fire is the Apocalypse
Its shrieks are not for the dark
They exist without moderation
And so long as we persist
So too will those wailing cries.
Ware all of us
We who sing along