The fire ran rampant throughout the forest,
it's flames dancing on the leaves of the towering trees,
spreading throughout the forest like a disease without a cure,
with the thought of death being guaranteed.
Death walked through the decaying bush
like an old soldier tired of war,
tired of the violence, tired of the countless deaths,
but committing to the job they swore.
Hopping kangaroos, sprinting emus, screaming kookaburras,
all perished to a spark's belladonna kiss.
Their spirits all try to escape, whether by flight or run,
unbeknownst to them that their old life no longer exists.
Death came along the a lost baby joey,
frightened, yelling out for its mother to no end,
for she is gone, lost to the fire's dance of death.
Death is not evil, however,
for they lifted up the joey with their cold, calloused hands,
and into their arms, as it's body falls limp,
too engulfed in smoke to take a breath.
Once the joey was lifted up into Death's arms,
she saw a soot-covered spirit hops up to the cloaked spectre.
Death slowly places the joey into the pouch of the mother,
thankful for god Baiame and his gift to the creature.
The mother looked up at Death and nodded,
silently being grateful for her child's protector.
As the family hopped away, Death continued through the graveyard of nature.
They walk up to a riot of passed cockatoos,
their eyes glossed over with a dull color.
The frightened spirits fly over the guide,
they cry out to the sky, yearning for an escape from this spiritual plane,
for they will never see their lovers.
Past the dying treetops and the burning corpses of the wildlife,
Death walks up to a corner of the forest, where the fire started it's ravenous dance.
They walk over to the body of a burnt koala, it's hand extended out to a mysterious object.
Death touches the head of the small creature, with its spirit calling up their arm,
with the small bear holding on tighter and tighter.
Death gently lights up the koala's limp hand to reveal a small, silver object.
An object made by mankind that has been used to destroy.
Death picks up a small, hand held lighter.
