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Tue 20 Apr, 2004 10:08 pm
Heretic on Trial
They walk me to the stake,
Dragging roughly at my bound arms.
I cannot believe it has come to this.
I look at the crowd,
The screaming jeering faces,
Of my time, turned ugly,
Horrible.
Do they hate me?
Does it matter?
I think of the others before me,
As I watch them fling the wood,
Stacking it round my body.
I feel a chill.
I savor it,
Knowing it will not be long now till the agony,
The torture, and the anguish.
Here it comes.
The torch
I used to love to watch fires
I thought them comforting
Of the man bearing the flame.
Now I cannot express my dread
The wood ignites.
I wait
Say a prayer for courage
The searing heat tears through my veins,
Liquid fire,
Leaving a trail of blisters in its wake;
Hot,
Burning,
Flames.
My skin ignites, shreds to ash.
What have I done to deserve this?
How could anyone deserve this?
Conflagration.
Pain.
Hot.
Burning.
Flames.
My last coherent thoughts?
I think "inferno".
Oh why am I still here?
Can that be me who is screaming?
When soul bears soul to the stake;
Scorching,
Razing,
Charring,
They shall pay for this in Hell.
They must.
Is this Hell?
Enduring,
Knowing this pain cannot last.
I do not have much left to fuel the hungering,
Raging red scalding flames.
Smoldering now,
Singed to the core.
How can I forgive them?
Detachment;
Rising above the crumbled shell below;
I see a new horizon,
New heights.
The heat is gone.
No more do the flames dance,
Before my bleary eyes.
Into my charred and blackened heart
Floods peace,
Exoneration,
Release.
In the world below,
There is a new dawn.
Another heretic steps up. 
I'm glad you survived the ordeal to post this, because I like it.
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