We run, in the pre-dawn darkness,
toward the city in the distance.
A stack of shadowy skyscrapers
atop a pile of smoldering embers.
Soon, the sun will slide around,
flicker the flames of first light,
and the world will be awash in its brilliance.
That glorious golden orb is the sulfur coated matchstick.
But it is we, ourselves,
who generate the spark
that sets this day on fire.