I am the tool, I am the weapon
Since the beginning of time I have existed,
some say the Homo sapiens brought me forth to existence-------but that’s twisted.
Many years have passed millions, billions, and even trillions, but my use
has never been so violated as it was in that Bradbury nightmare.
I am the tool; I am the weapon.
I have scorched many things since my introduction to civilization, throughout
all creation and shall continue until the end of time,
and I don’t even cost a dime.
The foundations of a house, once a home, until my grips of hell brought it crashing down like a tower of cards.
Ash and rubble is all that is left when my job is complete ash and rubble, oh how the dwelling crumbles!
The serene purity of the creator’s forest is shaken up as I spring forth with destruction as my purpose.
Green grass morphs to black bristles,
Oak becomes old, and Maple melts mercilessly.
God’s creatures lack a home, onyx soot engulfs the clear air;
all because of me.
I am the tool; I am the weapon.
Imagine me surrounding you,
Vulnerable and defenseless.
Immediately the once supple, fresh skin that was your body begins to congeal, connect, and conform to the bone until it becomes raw, tar meat; not even coyotes can sink their
teeth into the feast that is your body.
But my, oh my ,this was not my greatest feat.
The greatest of all was my hand in the destruction of our past and unfortunate future;
I am the tool; I am the weapon.
Can you imagine the nonexistence of
existence?
Well, men of the world believed in it. Now I have destroyed quite a few items in my lifetime, from houses to humans, to forest and families; but none affects my soulless being, than
the demise of past, present, and future literature.
Was it a “pleasure to burn”?
I’d rather pass my turn on this one.
The greats: Shakespeare, Hawthorne, and even the word of God (the Bible) have all been “blackened” by my flaming grasps----I don’t know why they have to burn?
They have done no harm,
or have they?
Is it an offense to supply knowledge and wisdom, and to diminish the pandemic of ignorance and stupidity?
In that day and age, it most certainly was.
Sad isn’t it?
“They shall burn!, all the books shall burn!”,
That is the trumpet that sounds and pounds all around,
which clouds the minds of the feeble-----except, for the terrific trio of trouble-making (Montag, Clarisse, and Faber). The last people left on earth who actually have a lick of sense.
I am the tool, I am the weapon
Tragic tale that the trio’s sense got them stressed and distressed, for being the light in an immensely dark world.
I am the tool, I am the weapon.
Treachery is not taken likely in these parts, if caution is not taken you might end up in parts and get torn apart by the men of fire, the men of the salamander.
The men of fire are extremely pleased with me---------actually they are my men, they can’t leave without me, they need me.
Without me they are merely mundane men, without me they are powerless and useless------and they know it.
I am their lifeline.
One comes to wonder shall I ever be stopped-----never, I am immortal.
Since the beginning of time I have existed, some say the Homo sapiens brought me forth to existence-------but that’s twisted.
Who am I?,
I am the tool; I am the weapon, ------- I am ------FIRE!
