Once there birthed a firecracker that exploded in nirvana flare,
Shards of fluorescence hung at a height and procured quite a glare,
Bright electric veins skewed straight were lured by Earthen leer,
Hypnotised by the light they snap their fingers then disappear,
They still permeated the land like neurones searching the brain,
Lightning speckles expanded before they dissipate into rain,
Forfeiting their fight for life as they slowly form a molecule,
Sucked back into the night to escape all blame and ridicule.
The night was full of spite and now ruined by rancour loud,
It was October’s mood sombre and socked with turmoil fowled,
And if I was a Pyre Tracker, the firecracker I would have to track,
Tracked the remnants of the night’s footsteps through the crack,
Followed the firecracker into the night and the fading cloud,
But a lite footprint and lights imprint were defiantly not allowed,
I should have chased the pyre if only I was courageous and keen,
But if bravery was sought then a pyre tracker I would not have seen.
I searched the synergy cloud left, and found only illumination,
The hole I spied was full of lights by firecracker saturation,
And all I am is a pathetic man full of false bravado now fatigued,
One filled with spite and sadness because of pettiness and greed,
So I did not look farther than where my nose ended,
Did not press forward even if that is what my soul intended,
Convulsions came from a stomach tied in a frayed knot,
For of all the things I am, a Pyre Tracker I am not.
Yes, I am a coward full of fallacious fear,
I did not search for the loss even though it vanished when I was near,
I did not try my best to stop the fire from going out,
I did not follow the Pyre Tracker’s final solemn shout,
It was I who stood there when the last the Pyre Tracker was seen,
But I did not follow him into light that I saw him disappear between,
It was I who watch the pyre snuff out with a single breath,
Still, I did not scream or die that day, and follow the light to death.
A flutter of energy as the world awoke and walked outside,
But a gale whispered stillness inside my soul dark like it cried,
Wind behind me hissed a kiss that sent goosebumps up my neck,
It was a Pyre Tracker who ran past me towards that lights that beck,
I looked up from my sorrow to witness the finality of a friend,
With bold strides, he followed death and where ever else it ends,
He strove headstrong straight into the fire’s grave,
Tore into lightning and it’s light like a man free but once a slave.
In a flash, the Pyre Tracker was gone through the seam of dawn,
And he was stuck in that dark forlorn as all clouds were drawn,
Then the gleam shimmers shut as if the beam had never been born,
In a dark swirling blur as the fragment mends what was torn,
I am left listening for quiet, for that’s the way I feel,
But hands cradle eyes and my legs are collapsed to a kneel,
You see me silent with calmness even after this ordeal,
Yet inside me is cyclonic sadness as I ask a God to appeal.
I will tell you how those tears have been for me since his death,
I do not rise each morning without thinking of that last breath,
I memorise my memories so this moment grows in dense in size,
Arise October emphasise for you are only sadness in disguise,
I am saturated with an anguish that covers me with brine,
Waterfalls emotion that shower like birthing placental shine,
I am foetal, signing across in the skin for sins I never knew I saw,
They start to draw blood in the sinew that is whipped me to raw.
No more pain in October for this is all that I can bear,
I know you can not completely heal wounds if still there is a tear,
So I wait for the Pyre Tracker for with him comes my freedom,
Wait for him to beckon me to join him in his kingdom,
But the night is still and the light leaves no mark or thrill,
Just a shark submerged in death and blood to subterfuge its kill,
Why after years of swill do I still feel completely guilty,
And why after death do I not see new life grow from the fatality,
I tumble in waves of recollect like the clouds did the dark,
Where is that brave Pyre Tracker, and why did he disembark,
Why are some men brave and they carry all the week,
And why after all these years can I not find the peace I seek,
The past firecracker that the Pyre Tracker tracked again cracked,
Light turned to sound blaring and stark, then blacked,
Thunder startles me the shark from my thoughts of fear,
A feeding frenzy in front of me rips at all the quiet that’s near.
I disappear then reappear in vacillations that escalate,
Thoughts pleat existentialism with peaks of doubt and debate,
It creases my existence with folds of repeated ponder,
My mental anguish encapsulates the man I knew, wonder now yonder,
Is it some melancholy metaphor to leave the cursed without mirth,
As my friend left me selfishly like our friendship had no worth,
Or am I a man loathsome for he Tracked the Pyre brave,
And I stayed on Earth for the physical being was what I craved.
I saw more death in this month than there was ever any birth,
In a guise of life, it applies to pain in some plan by mother’s earth,
It is a lot of blood pouring from sewers downpipes from history,
Of men and moments that make that time memorable or mystery
But still, I am filled with more hurt in this month of October,
Or is it just an excuse to keep me from being sober,
Another bang and I glimpse the Pyre Tracker tasting blood,
I am distraught for he is past yet drenched and kneeling in the mud.
It is a lot of blood that pours from brutal fleshy rips,
Eyes slowly blink as the Pyre Tracker touches the cuts in his lips,
He is broken, and his body shows the ferociousness of the fight,
His screams defy the lightening wire that grip and gyre of night,
The Pyre Tracker’s face contorts by gnarled forces from his core,
Rain pounds him as he pushes intestines back inside the gore,
This man died already but still, he consumes my space,
He is my legend, my now, my Devil, my God, my mind, my face.
I wish I had the courage that the Pyre Tracker possessed,
I wish I was half the man that my bravery has repressed,
I ponder that there are no clues leading one to peace,
I am vexed by a want to remember him, but also want release,
I remember the Pyre Tracker’s face hacked with scratches lace,
I remember him looking at me from high in that pyre place,
I am tormented by guilt that pounds me like an incubus hymn,
Cymbals and rhythm drums are screams and thumps from him,
The Pyre Tracker is dead and I wonder if he found the light,
Was he happy before this battle and at peace with every night,
He would have been a great man, pure just as I am false,
For I escalate the vacillate so that I am thrumming like a pulse,
But he would have been stoic, this Pyre Tracker mate,
He was a son, a brother and a Pyre Tracker then to soon and late,
I did see him die but in time I did not see him disappear,
I do slowly die as memories try to escape being sober this year.
