Someone stood there,
just there,
and thought of arson,
and the world burned.
Did he pause to consider,
with the match in her hand?
Oh, there are regrets for what is gone,
for the lives lost, for the smoking hills under the orange moon--
but look, there! new seedlings are growing.
Perhaps one day,
someone will stand here,
or at the top of a mountain,
or beside the sea,
and they will think of change,
and balance what will be lost
against what might be won
and on that day,
if we find the thought worthy
the world will blaze again.
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