In its' flames ?

This life is a twisted charred log 
for a hundred birds that 
fell from the sky one morning,
flames from above falling
toward the fire below 
and a thousand children that  died inside the embers. 

This life is a burning forest, 
this fire is the one 
that brings all of life to it's knees.  

This life is a meteor of unannounced 
proportion. 
Carrying particles that simmer in the night sky 
and light that is fire. 

So  it is to the end, 
this  life that frightens
that bring the devil inward 
and the hope of mankind to an end. 

This life is the burning ulcer in the stomach 
the ache in the broken foot that cannot escape and 
the broken mouth that cannot produce speech. 

This life is for the baby crying 
in the distance 
and the distance coming closer. 

This life,
that trickles as the
broken tap, 
awakening you 
and that doesn't let you rest at night 

This is the  life, 
Gods are not life 
And you see the hearts 
of the hundreds that drown each 
and every day,
Like stones in fishponds 

This life is for all the sick 
and all the weak and all
the deceit that is. 

A dying corpse is already dead 
A flying bird is in the air, 
past Getsemanne. 
That is this life 
It's obviousness is it's journey 

This life, it aches incessantly 
and that is exactly 
and precisely the life,  
for it is in the mountains 
and the valleys 
and the paths walked. 

This life is in effect a 
circumnavigation,
a tragedy of kind. 

This life is the tragedy that brings 
the boats 
That sinks the boats 
That drowns the the boats 

This life is the clanging  bell from the church tower marking these deaths 

and finally this life is 
the scorn and the hatred 
that infests, that turns 
and twists, like 
white maggotts, 

This is the way it is 
and we burn in it's flames