A Kind Of Furnace - There Will Be Fireworks

Storm surge from disaster, mouths move but never speak

The story goes eyes wide focused all just a next one

Once I did test your tendons full grown with roots down

Peel away, peel away fingers reaching for

We were running towards a catastrophe, which itself was a kind of furnace in

whose heat identities and fates would buckle into new shapes

At the base of the balloon was a basket in which there was a boy,

and by the basket, clinging to a rope, was a man in need of help