Burning wind - A Poem

Winds of fire,
Blew in my face.

Stood against it,
With much absolve.

A bed of razors,
Laid for rest.

What do you see?
What do you know?

The final place,
Was with the winds.

Burn as they did,
Bury as they could,
Molten pain,
Oozed out incessantly.

Photo by Henry Be on Unsplash