Ashes to Artifice

The dank air rushes up to greet,
The victors as they lay their feet,
On charred remains of hallowed ground,
And as they cast their gaze around,
They see to their profound surprise,
A flower blooms before their eyes,
A single orchid rises from the ash.

It's petals reach out hoplessly,
Towards a sun it cannot see,
Inviting some to wonder why,
So many people had to die,
A reverie curtailed by sounds,
Of something stirring underground,
The artifice that lies beneath the ash.

A chain reaction now begun,
In isotopes of Hydrogen,
That fuse together perfectly,
As Helium and energy,
Then flesh and bone all melts away,
When night becomes as bright as day,
A vengeful phoenix rising from the ash.

Now only silence fills the air,
No trace remains of what stood there,
No edifice or monument,
No evidence of cruel intent,
No flowers grow and no birds sing,
No spark endures in any thing,
Now nothing lives upon this plain of ash.

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