When dusk falls the sinner’s

Lonely pyre is solemnly lit

With tinder full of woodworm

And choking with dry rot

The holy river shivers


Tiny flames like crimson rose buds

Ignite and bloom

Into fiery serpent flowers

With bright, dancing petals

Of incandescent orange, red and blue

Devouring the deceased

Like voracious beasts

The Stars weep


As smoke trails away

And the smouldering ashes

Are gently cleansed

Temple bells ring

And a new day dawns


Copyright © 2017 Anne D Morgan



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