But A Cinder

There was a...certain beauty in the fires
Something ethereal yet sorrowful 
Each cinder a reminder of 
Unending emptyness...
Of course after we burn up... 
A life of enough carbon monoxide
To kill a whole planet 
But we love to blaze 
We celebrate it 
Futile to resist it 
I drift on the wind
But a cinder, so empty 
And yet I loathe to know 
My burning was hell for someone else
And yet still, the conflagration persists 
From the drapes to the floorboards 
From the interior to the exterior
Our wetwork goes on uninterrupted 
And the tragedy of it all 
Leaves a mark on me the likes 
Of which could set my soul...ablaze
And as I dance through the air the symphony 
Plays in my mind over and over again
My feet keeping pace with the tempo
Casually touches a cheek 
The bellow fills my heart with unease 
The art has made me a maestro for murder
And tears cascade the canvas 
That is I
But a cinder, so empty 
And yet I loathe to know 
That today
My burning was hell for someone else 

(Inspired by Beethoven's Silence)