The funeral pyre of the night
lit at dawn, by the eastern sky
shall blaze forth, consume the day
and spent, die at the hands of feeble twilight

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Fire, lit by the sky
to make a cup of morning tea,
blazes uncontrollable
awaiting death by celestial firefighters

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In the east, there’s fire
quick, with your lens, capture
before it spreads and the color leaches
leaving a canvas bare

©Shail Mohan 2016