Wild Fire

This soul entrapped in a forest of monotony,
Metal chain leaves closing in rustling,
Somewhere the two-handed clock insect ticks,
Sending pulses of moments in the dreary darkness,
The trunks of the tradition trees are thick and of steel,
Authoritarian creatures hoot swinging their egotistical tails,
I want to light a stick from the matchbox of freedom,
And set this vivid landscape afire,
Then the several colored wings of imagination shall fly,
Then the flames of the wild fire will soar,
And we will reach the heavens even as we burn,
Leaving the last tall tips of the time stained trees of dogma below.