Nature always wanted to burn Paradise down,
a swailing to its Indian, Spanish calling,
a burn-off to its mandrake roots,
enflamed with its third day existence,
stuck between the iteration of
water and light, heaven and earth,
day and night, the animal hordes,
the existence before the existence of man
for which it sacrificed dust and clay,
receiving not a drop or ray of praise.
Fire wasn’t nature’s creation. It was God’s.
The singeing whip used whenever it
dare get too close to HIS creation,
then becoming the fiery lash whenever
man cared to get too close to HIM.
HE gave gave him fire to control nature
and when man forged iron into a spear,
to murder his fellow man, God gave it to
nature to punish him, burying the deadliest
flame under the earth and calling it HELL.
Hell was created on the seventh day
when God was suppose to be resting.
Wildfire is just a reflection of hell,
a reminder to humanity that nature
was God’s seventh great idea and
he was HIS tenth afterthought.
Nature takes delight and revenge
in that perverted notion,
and whenever it finds a gated Paradise
it will burn it down. That’s its nature.
Painting a mural in a burnt out Paradise
is an act of faith in the value of human nature.
Planting flowers is just a natural act
that hopes to keep the wildfires away.
Scooping ash and rebuilding again
is a belief in the power of resurrection.
It is part of the process, the healing again,
until nature enflamed that water
was God’s second great idea
releases a flood on a parched Paradise.