If desires are a flame, then I am a wildfire,

marching down and regining all wrath.

Wood crackling and spitting out

beneath me sparks of my rage.

Green leaves and brown timber,

calm skies with a bright light and a fog of clouds

Now red, red rage all over. Now grey, grey smokes

Now fatal, fatal soots all around, now dead and charcoaled

and if desires are a flame, then I am the wildfire,

oppressed by my own inhumanity and cruelity.

by own my chasing for rush, now aching for peace

aching to be left alone, away from what I’ve caused.

I have till the end of the enablement, end of the barks of tree

the green leaves, the flesh, feather, and fur of the animals below,

Until then I wait to dwindle down to nothing but a pile of ruins,

and i will still be a wildfire, now with witness and proof