Elucidating Questions

The smoke hangs like fog in the trees, but the sun is orange in its haze.

Thick like the first fall pressure change that whispers in the fallen clouds.

If only I could convince the rain to fall, to soak the earth in its mysterious shape.

Breathing in the tainted air, the ache of lungs already pushed too far.

Grey, dark, and the remnants of screams from what was consumed.

From here I can feel the pressure, of the flames engulfing the island I am trapped on.

If the flames grew higher and there was no escape, what would I do.

Even the sight of the ocean is dampened

The world looks like how I feel.

The air is heavy, the sun visible, but darker.

I don’t want it to be on fire.