There’s a hope found in the inferno blaze
Licking at these feet again. Pillage and raze
The city on a hill, our midsummer daze.
They said “Every flower will someday wilt,”
But nothing of their guilt. Indifference?
No. Ignorance, an unwillingness to accept
That things will always change with time.
A first cry turns into a broken tombstone;
Be you rich, poor, good, evil, lost or found.
Life is the change in between. We might be gone
With our first breath but we still make a sound.
How could that ever be right or wrong?
For even a dew-kissed rose has thorns.
Vasha'Lakar 