It Burns

The world around us is on fire and here I am just writing this poem. Just sitting here in the dark. Just staring at the moon. Just hoping things will be OK. Just waiting to live another day.

Here I am,

writing this poem

my house is surrounded in flames

they never reach me.

I sit and revel in their dance.

I laugh at the screams of my prey.

I enjoy watching them burn.

I enjoy it because I like the chill.

I like the chill of being sane while everything goes up in flames.

I like sitting at a desk and staring out the window, watching the end go by.

I will not revel in the end of the world.

I will not sing its praise.

But I will not cry when this world has gone away.

I will not sob when humans have gone extinct.

I will not cry at the relief.

I will just stare at the sunset, its fiery glory dazzling my eyes.

I will wait for the end, knowing a new world is about to begin.

I will wait and watch, sitting in my house, writing an ode, an ode to peace in the midst of destruction and fear.

Then, I will die.

Before that happens, a vision will come to me

A vision of a golden era.

One where no one is smart enough to think

Where everyone is under scrutiny

then, and only then, I will weep.