Sand 

Sand begats sand. A desert has no plan. 

It simply grows until simply nothing grows,

The desert that grows in the shadow of my plan.

A sea of burning sand, with waves that can only expand.

Heavy little broken stones that no longer shimmer or shine.

Mired by hope, forgotten by dreams. Shattered ambition lying plain on the planless ground.

I’m drowned in a sea of broken hope. Once a glimmering mansion of glass, I could see for miles. 

Despite no stones thrown, my glass plan now plains of pain and echoes of efforts wasted.   

Sand is just bits of glass, memories of who has been, reminiscence of luminescence

Everything ventured, nothing gained but grains of broken hope as far I can see

An unbroken sea of broken dreams and plans. 

The desert feels like my just desserts. 

Sand mocks me, how dare I dare?

I burned my derriere. 

Ash 

Flame spreads flame. Fire has no sympathy.

Char is a scar. Pain in the past, harm that happened.  

A monster that feeds on anything, all things are burning, an endless repetition. 

Fast or slow, everything is consumed by a beast with no shadow, no intuition. 

Fire doesn’t care. I was born in a world on fire. I am on fire. 

My blood burns in my vines. Burns, but no longer boils. In my blood, my flame abides.

Fire is weightless, hateless, immune to the whinging of poets or the demands of kings. 

Flame has no pride and therefore no master but still serves, it won’t be ruled but it can be used

Born in fire, born on fire, I am borne of fire. I am The Pheonix. Smoke and char boils in my wake

Fire serves my desires. The shadowless vampire kneels before me if I remember I command.

Scorched earth upon demand. In my path lies nothing but char, and scar, and sand. 

But if sand genuflects to fire and flame bows to me then, by lineage, I preside.

If fire and sand are both under my command then my reign’s supreme.

A throne of burnt stone.

Glass is pain’s ash 

Sand is glass from the past.

Fire begats

Glass

On gossamer wings of wisdom

I rise.