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   The Burning Sky
[ After The Scream (1893) by Edvard Munch ]

You walk away from us
With your backs turned.
Fixed in your ways with
The comforts of your space
Secure for your short future.
You only talk to those who
Live in your part of
Our common world.

Our part is forlorn:
We are left with spaces
Shrinking faster than
Than we can manage.
Yet you continue on your path
Away from our concerns
Ignoring the burning sky
And our despairing screams.