After the fire, when the flames have died, stand still with what was
If the ash still smokes in the morning dew, rake it gently over
As the robin watches on and a leaf scuttles by
The embers still flicker, a defiant echo of yesterday’s blaze
Their little glint, one last hurrah of all that’s been, the ripping heat and crackling glory – remember?
But cooling now, the fire is done, the ground scorched and cleared, only ash remains
The grey residue of life, now flighty dust in the breeze
When the flames have died, stand still with what was, with this nothing, for awhile
As the robin watches on
And for all that has been, thank you; and for all that shall be, yes
