Burning higher and higher
I looked to my left
No one to lift a hand
I looked to the right
No-one right there
Mid way found I some little children
Busy with the sand

Amazed at the new scene
Could not lend a hand
They themselves burning with
Excitement of seeing such a sight

Bush burning faster and higher
Not fun but real to who feels
A reality must be realized
Realize by all and on time
Seems nobody realize the danger
To bring it under control and destroy it,
Before it destroys more.

I ran down the hill
Like a reel it ran down the hill path
Should not be allowed to run down the hill

I ran down the hill
To get some help, perhaps?
Someone is somewhere down there
Perhaps someone is out there who cares
Before the fire runs down the hill
Could there be patriots: conservatives, Democrat, Republican or labour
Could there be anyone who cares?
Surely someone must have seen this
Brightness of destruction or it smoke.

Solution down hill
Nobody right there
Nobody to lift a hand
Nobody to carry it also
Solution found in the ditch
Cool, clear and calm it lay
Sure, pure, plain and peaceful.

The ditch has an offer deep down
And flowing over and over saying
“Torrent of hope
Torrent of destiny
I am pure and transparent
I opened my mouth and called
I looked and saw none
I called and listened
I listened and heard non”
“Who will listen to my soft, smooth voice?”

Else where I looked
Found I none that cares
Higher I looked
Found none that stares
Will one cares or feel?
Surely and slowly the fire
Will consume everything
Selecting not a plant or path

Tree and shoot, they are all the same
All will come to its whim
Nothing left except ash, smoke and coal
With blackness of destruction


Time is out, no more dilly dally
All to the ditch of water.
Ditch of hope, I hear your
Ever flowing melody of the moment.

I blink on my bed
As this brim on my brain
To the path of my dream
Remember none but you;
Fire of the hills
Can be destroyed before it destroys more
Daily the destruction goes on
Solution: - I called, like the
Ditch to the children uphill
Time made flame to realize
Down to the ditch of hope
Scoop without a steer
Order by the heart to scoop of hand
To the hill fire, each drop counts
A relief to us, and the
Fire of the hill dead by each scoop.