No Concern of Ours

There ‒ the beginnings of all ends, and the ends to all beginnings...

There ‒ the beginnings of all ends,
and the ends to all beginnings…

There ‒ the beginnings of all ends,
and the ends to all beginnings,
neither enemy nor friend,
In endless circles spinning.

Below ‒ in full insignificance,
on a lump of much abused mud,
we struggle with the dissonance,
of fickle minds and savage blood.

At this ‒ our self-inflicted last hour
without covering shade or proof,
we burn by the merciless power,
beneath a mutilated roof.

Unrelenting sheen blinds the eye,
(never mind the ductless tears)
skin blistering, sizzling as it fries,
– the time of all our fears.

Is this the benevolent mother?
Or is it a hell-fire demon?
Giving rise to wonder?
Or harmful rays beaming?

There ‒ the bringer of good,
and the root of all evil,
forever misunderstood,
and deaf to cries primaeval.

The smouldering giant above,
with no care, no concern,
no forgiveness, hatred or love,
should we flourish or burn.

Yes, a burning behemoth,
a solitary sailor in the sky,
giving us warmth and light,
by which we live and die.

©Fraughtfully

Styling, textile necklace and blouse created by:

http://dinamalkova.com/

Images and iphoneography by:

http://www.julietmorrisphotography.com/

No concern of ours 8