Fallen

Flaming crimson wisps breathe out a sharp grey smoke

Pristine green burned to crumbly pitch black eventually fading away

Panic sprouts from the heated seed, screams scatter among the planes

With weak frantic voices issuing wilting decrees

Urgently stumbling, barely grasping rusted iron buckets

Filled up with a deep dark blue, hurled against the scarlet fire

Hissing as it recoils, leaving a scar of darkness no light could heal

Yet, rising once again with a piercing roar at its wake

Devouring the splendid green and brilliant brown

Only a permanent shadow remains, a symbol of what would never return

Like sharp grey smoke rising to the sky, unreachable