fledgist | approaching midnight

as we sit and face the future
there's no one knows just what we'll need
anger breeds on edge of suture
fire declares itself with speed

rhyme and reason fade in panic
fire and water meet in peace
not a one who waits is manic
yet not a one could blame caprice

grant the fire will burn the clover
and mighty flood will cleanse the vale
nothing's left here to recover
none of the wise will hear this tale

shallow paint the world in colour
make the choices come out flat
things will seem to come out duller
the night belongs to angry bat