The Fire

 

The withering glare of heartless rays,

All day has beaten down.

And from the mountain and rocks and trees

Rises exhausted haze.

 

Now man and beast heave a sigh of relief

As the sun sinks to its rest.

And the shade of dusk rejuvenates

Where heat all day has pressed.

 

A full moon sheds a gentle glow

While rising from the east.

And a coyote howls an eerie tune,

The song of a ravenous beast.

 

 

The ground is parched in this high desert land,

And nary a cloud has been found,

To send some rain to dying plants

And water the thirsty ground.

 

But wait, what was that? That pierced the dark

In brief, but malevolent gleam.

A spark born down from a wire up high,

As in a nightmarish dream.

 

Quickly it takes, and fans to a flame,

Its appetite explosively grows.

While embers glowing like evil eyes,

Fly in the wind the blows.

 

Now a fire, fiendish and wild

Roars through mountain and tree.

And beast and bird ahead of its path

In terror, blindly flee.

 

But now in the path of the scorching blaze

People are sleeping in peace,

Unaware of the fate that screams

In a sprint across the east.

 

A glow of orange in the window pain,

Rouses a boy from his bed.

He gazes amazed at the scene outside,

A landscape turning to red.

 

Then the cold hand of fear grips on his heart.

And panic takes over his mind.

He turns and dashes out of the room.

A safer place to find.

 

Where can he go? He’s surrounded it seems,

Flames lick on every side,

They flicker around and light every space,

And leave not a nook where to hide.

 

He pauses just for a second and stares,

And then through the smoke comes a thought,

Of something his mother often has said

A truth she had carefully taught.

 

That way up above, past the sky and the stars

Is Someone who knows everything

He sees and He hears, even a child,

That kneels with a question to bring.

 

So the boy knelt, and clasping his hands,

In a whisper for safety to bring,

His words were borne, up through the flames

And brought before the great King.

 

So the house, with the boy inside,

Was covered with a mighty hand.

The fire howled in fury and heat,

But the house continued to stand.

 

With a gust of wind the fire was passed,

And in its wake was seen,

Ashes and rubble in smoking heaps,

Where once the town had been.

 

But like an island in a sea of gray,

Unscathed one house had stayed.

A testament of the power that came

Because one small child prayed.