Firestorm

Forest, dark, murky, green, 
Looking through, a beautiful scene. 
The moons up, standing tall, 
The endless possibilities, never fall. 
The small voice in the back of your brain, 
Telling you go, there’s no pain. 
Adventure more, through the forest of bush, 
The scenery of trees, winds giving a push. 
An abyss of dry leaves and vines, 
Soon to be a fiery line. 
The smell of smoke rising to the green, 
This once forest now a flame’s dream. 
The fire flickers in the shades of dark, 
An angry red tongue leaving its mark. 
The trees begging to the red to survive, 
The flame is watching, continuing to thrive. 
Water falls from the night sky,  
Disturbing the fire from its quest to fry. 
When the burning anger finally leaves, 
A sigh of relief, now calm trees. 
He retreats away from the water, 
Rising somewhere else, to create more slaughter.