Mocking birds cry as raisins dry;
Those with opinions, turn to voiceless mutes.
The doors slam shut as Bovary strides up,
Issues involving others, they avoid a pursuit.
A proclaimed witch upon the pyre,
The pit grows louder as children laugh merrily,
As the priest strums the lyre;
How can a public see through the smoldering clouds of dust?
Burning upon the flames, we see their faces glow…
One by one…
Soul by soul…
Melting into a purple haze.
Page by page transcending into snow,
Turned from the wood
And sent to the fire.
Page by page we know
We look on and see.
We look on and let happen
As the world turns to ash.