Embers

 

Chaos
reigns above all else.
No vapors of serenity,
no smoke of peace.

I see you—
slipping from my hands,
skimming off my fingertips,
the ember always just beyond my grasp.

The world tilts out of balance.
So much falls outside control.
Habits and routines flicker thin,
little more than illusion.

Anarchy rises.
The lawless draft the laws;
those sworn to uphold them
bow in obeisance.

The jester
takes the throne.
Maniacal laughter
fills the house.

Darkness
permeates.
I move unsteady,
lost in this labyrinth.

Yet
we must
endure.

Chaos may reign above,
but the ember breathes below.

The jester may claim the throne,
but even the throne rests on a foundation.

Smoke may vanish—
but embers endure.

© Ron Simpson Jr. (2026)