Ash

The sky is calm, almost too calm.
The earth is quiet, too quiet.
It's too beautiful to stand.

What's wrong here?
Can this place be perfect?

On a fully summer day, snow starts to fall. *
What land is this? *
I catch a flake in my hand: ash. *
* * * * *
The world is burning. I can do nothing. *
I smell fire in the air. *
* * * * *
I guess some people just get to watch the world burn... * * * * *