That troglodyte I egged him on as quizzically he held
The brand that fell from cavern hearth just as a quake occurred
He focused on the smoldering tip, brow furrowed, stick upheld
I screamed out in my voiceless dream and magically he heard.
He took a sheet of withered bark and peered as if amazed
Then with the firestick in his hand he drew across the grain
With one more geometric stroke a thickened eyebrow raised
As there before his startled eyes a crooked cross was stained.
I bellowed, woke and all the blankets from my bed were cast
I’d seen the perfect pyrographic act my dream had urged
A fire now blazes in my blood to learn and use his craft
It’s in my DNA, our genes through double helix merged.
I still can sense his firestick though I use electric brand
I drew another cross today, his touch cloned in my hand.