Festival Of Fire Poem by Okoronkwo Jonathan Jackson

Fierce and fearful the rage.
I dare not open its page.
Lets i be held siege,
Under the authority of the unknown concierge.

But i tell of that celebration,
in time to come be a destruction.
Yet, a little while for purgation:
for then shall there be a separation.

How terrible it shall seem to look.
Not like that on which the meal to cook.
But more fierce than that of the forest hook;
for there shall be placed in reign, a book.

So to say: for to them be a risk,
who the race move not in a brisk.
Gladly to take the journey so frisk,
rather will to remain in the cuff of frisk.

And now the festive so fast,
it comes bringing to the last.
Think not of thy deed shall it count of the past.
Reckon thee on the present for the past shall not last.

Recall thee in thy imagination how terrific the fire so red and hot. Think not of thee a refuge to take in a hut:
with this journey short filled with nothing, and full of but...
For to thy rescue there shall be no slot.

Take heed lest you partake in that fire.
Know ye, thy place above the fire is prepared, made higher-
That thy way you make through in thy great desire.
And thy rest in the hands of the creator to retire.