Herald of Hephaestus

A cottage crumbles as the fire consumes the night
The seasoned arsonist's treasured delight
How many fall short of mystical reverence
How tragic the throes of a young artist's plight

Passion licks at the heels of a world torn asunder
The architect's works mistaken for an electric blunder
How majestic is a sky dyed gray and glowing orange
Can divinity be defined without terror and wonder

Still life is uninspired; living art the same
Somewhere in the middle are Hell's finest flames
They burn away the rot of things long condemned
Spreading and consuming unable to be tamed

Once in motion, burning desires rarely see defeat
When sated, they hide in the embers at your feet
Pure, unbridled energy in its highest form
The only thing left to take is a seat

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