Arson. Fire takes over with its crown of omen and disaster. The dollfaces flee; beetles, bees, spiders, ladybirds, ants of black, red, and white; their charade for escape hassles its way through with twisted legs and broken wings. Arson. Flames are enforcing petals and grass as their new homes and hostages. The muse burns on, spreading more destruction on its way–there is nothing ahead but ravens and crows: death. Arson. Dead hallow trees of dry bark and sharpened claws for twigs lay afront as two roads diverged (both of similarly compelling charisma). I, the lone traveler, stare at the course of wind, earth and fire, yet trace no element of water following. Inside, I feel nothingness; nothingness grows inside my soul as do poison ivy vine leaves around my ribcage. Arson. Arson manifests its way through my system, and I end in a pile of charred bone and ash of black. Flame of shades of red, orange and a light discernible blue rage and wrath on until no pollen has a chance of survival in the cool of an enduring petal. Arson. Arson plays its cards right, and it’s the one with the upper hand, but then its skin burns and life barges in; waves of liquid confidence march on. The crown falls, and every ruby tips off and is a victim to the wave; the fire is dead. Arson. A state of mind very few muster up the courage to admit to, and repeatedly deny. Now comes the age of the monsoon. Come wind, earth and water all at once, and let there be growth and nourishment; put out the torch of oppression and torment, and let there be an earthly heaven. Rise, almighty roots, stems, leaves, petals: aid my breath, for my lungs are filled with smog and smoke and wilted hope. Aid the daisies, aid the daffodils, aid the meadows, aid the oaks, and aid the willows–let there be life of blues, yellows and greens; let there be a tropical fest. Climb the mountains of palms and smash the coconuts rather than the dusty champagne bottles–let there be life to the protagonist of wealthy growth, and grant the arsonistic antagonist silence after its weary begging for mercy after distress; let there now be rejoice in the chosen diverging road.