THE SEMINOLE CAMPFIRE
A thousand pieces of matter, flitting away -
all sparks and ash and soot today.
That ladle with the spoonfit ending, it
too is made of wood and it will burn,
(if they feel it should). 'All creation
trembles at the thought of burning.'
Only the vile race, of seditious mind,
would think up flames like this and determine
its Hell to be within the nature of the Man.
It simply cannot be, oh lucky one, of
Stallion Dawn Speeding Spitfire Brother clan.
We will all howl beneath this fat and rising moon.
(Another life will come, but not too soon).
A thousand pieces of matter, flitting away -
all sparks and ash and soot today.
That ladle with the spoonfit ending, it
too is made of wood and it will burn,
(if they feel it should). 'All creation
trembles at the thought of burning.'
Only the vile race, of seditious mind,
would think up flames like this and determine
its Hell to be within the nature of the Man.
It simply cannot be, oh lucky one, of
Stallion Dawn Speeding Spitfire Brother clan.
We will all howl beneath this fat and rising moon.
(Another life will come, but not too soon).
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