Burn it all down.

Picture by WILLIAM ARCHIE/Detroit Free Press

Summer is meant for heat.

When the embers rise within the sights of the meek, those huddled together speaking in their own voices about the scary nature of how things always have been. In that the way the possibility of calamity has become apparent, as it burns through the protection of oblivious nature and its inherent deniability. Of course the odds of this occurring are pretty low and even now that it has, and the smoke of fear floats over the masses as it separates from the flames, the voices make statements about how they worry about their safety. The voice drone on how there will be great inconvenience after the water washes it all away. I have yet to hear the words “oh alas poor driver, may God have pity on his soul and comforts find those who loved him and the other fallen.” All the overpasses shall fall. Let us remember that we all drive to the grave. I hope we navigate well.

If it needs to burn, I hope we burn it all down. Let ashes be ashes, and then we can rise from them.