Postcard 32

"Lit up in a blaze of glory as if
Suddenly slapped by an angry angel."
My rage was incandescent
Burning through my cells and
Radiating from tip of each hair
Standing out at attention
It came on fast and shot through me
Dragged me while I hung on
Enjoying the ride though the
Destination was a mystery
Until we reached it and I was
Doused, smothered, stopped
Put out, shut down, ended
Empty where the fire
Flamed, barren and bereft
Until the pain moved in
Announcing that what had come was merely
Prodromal preview for what comes next