Impressions of the Burning Man


by Gawaine Caldwater Ross

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.

About the author: Tales From The Playa

Tales From The Playa are dreams and memories of events that took place at Burning Man, as told by its participants.

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