Aske til Fjer

Filling his head
were one hundred voices
the fire was red
while burning his choices,
only one choice was left to make
the hundredth voice was bound to quake.
Wake at once
for the fire is raging
and the choir roars
while the war keeps on waging
and the pews all burn
in a reverberation
as the heads all turn
with concern, not with patience.
The fire was soft
and the voices were muffled
and the ashes aloft
fell as feathers just ruffled.
Closing his eyes
like a child at night
came the strangest surprise
as if things were alright.
The fire was quelled
and the voices were silent,
but he burned with a passion
and sang like a giant.


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