The World is Burning

The world is burning
Flames flying in the air
My body is turning
Watching my surroundings there
 
Consumed are the trees
The mountains are on fire
No hope there to appease
The hot flames grow higher
 
Through tunnels of flames
I’m heading for my home
Where fear abstains
And much stronger I become
 
And there it still stands
My small peaceful place
Guarded by unseen hands
For its walls did not deface
 
The world is burning
Flames flying in the air
But at home I’m learning
God can protect me there.

Commentary: 

I wrote this several years ago as I recalled a dream I had while I was a child. It was quite a dark dream. I was somewhere in a nearby canyon and it was night. It was dark, but the darkness was interrupted by fireballs falling down from the sky like rain. It was falling everywhere. I decided to flee the canyon and get to a safe place, but with the way the fire was falling, it almost seemed impossible to find such a secure shelter. I then came to my grandma's house (which, ironically, is now where I live) that was close to the canyon. A sudden feeling of calm overcame me when I made it to her house, because I realized that I would be safe there.

The home is where the heart is, and at that age, I suppose that meant my Grandma Weight's home. She was a quiet gentle soul, but had a big heart for all of her family. She accepted a person as he or she was no matter whether or not she liked the choices he or she made. We all felt safe with her.