Impressions of the Burning Man
Gawaine Caldwater Ross
05.01.07
The Burning Man was eighty feet high Atop a temple of Moorish lace Confections of stars and midnight suns All on a lake bed flat and sere, already Old when primates first appeared. Fire dancers whirled as the stars chirped Hosannas to the primal rite. Nothing is lost, but all is gained, Extravagance is the law of the land. Open now, as the clouds pass by, Fire is water, and water itself Soars into the stratosphere. High art falls into the dust, No one complains, and all rejoice. Surreal it is, and yet romantic, Bacchus himself rides on the wind, And here it is that once a year Artists bring about the birth Of Shiva's endless pillar of fire.
