Fire

Fire,
burning hot,
memories burning of those who were not forgot,
records of lives well lived,
going up in flames,
memories of our ancestors, our countrymen, loved ones and friends,
their happy lives,
their sad lives,
being erased in the heat of the fire,
never to be seen again,
yes, whole histories of our loved ones,
and our friends,
disappearing rapidly,
and how terrible for humanity,
but how quickly history can be erased,
how quickly the achievements and the creativity of the human race can be destroyed,
the old in paper and in photographs,
and the new in all technological ways,
yes, how quickly they can be erased,
in the fire that leaves the physical copies of our memories of our ancestors,
our countrymen, our loved ones and friends, like ghosts,
after the fire has erased them,
and only the ashes and our memories remain.

No Profile, Writing and poetry
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Hello, I am Ben Robinson, a poet, my first book of poetry Alas the day was written in Dorset, in the United Kingdom.

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