In echoes hear the wind spark flame,
A brazen tiff alarms stout prey,
The kindred copious molten mass
Splutters laughs Beelzebub passed,
“To incinerate,” foolish piety chimes,
“Is our Lord’s justice for unspent crimes!”
Yet innocence plays prey to land
And origin powers blind demand,
“Oh why thy Earth whom over we stand
Chastise in violent reprimand?”

But the wind sparked flame drowns out the cry
Bellowing fervent swelters, “Oh purify!
Rid me of these parasites
Rigged to gauge me hollow,
They care not if their Mother wanes
I care not if they wallow.”

Fire to tinder, tinder to smoke,
An ashen, barren dawn awoke.
Apologies bloom a springtime wake,
“Forsake! Forsake!”
The spoilt child retakes the plate,
“Fury for folly, such a hypocrite you are,
Forsaken you are never,
Indebted you are more!”