The pain calls from within
like the screech of a parrot.
The tears flow to the dirt
crushing the homes of the blood-red ants.
Our hearts call
out for help from
a dog trying to find a lost soul.
The day mourns as
an abandoned chick does for its mother.

The root of the pain?
Him.

He is the smoke from a fire,
never to be found again.
Our spirits need to be tamed
as a wild lion
needs to be when in a circus.
Our lives are a circus,
pretending what is not, as is.
But the pain caused by this flame,
Has the power to
destroy the apparent what is.

And it has done it now.

We will step out into the wilderness
and rebuild the homes for the ants.
We will care for the chick
and soothe the parrot.
We will walk like jackals
in our hunt for the future.
We will capture it,
and the circus will End.