A dozen hundred fireflies

Twinkling in the night sky.

Turning memoirs to embers,

Flames rage so high.

Children watch and coo,

Women gasp in plastic woe.

All eyes content to watch the fiery play,

None so willing to offer some allay.

Up and up goes the ash;

The sky lights up a brilliant red.

Excruciating screams, no one bats a lash.

Lit bodies decay; townspeople stand with hearts so very dead.

Pointed fingers trace the crimson hues.

Watchful, entranced, unforgiving eyes.

So much to do and yet so little being done.

Heavens frown and moue, once again hell has won.