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AND FINALLY . . .
The twins are the symbol of Gemini, suggesting the duality of the Gemini character.
People born under this sign are very versatile and adaptable. Gemini is an air sign, which indicates compromise.
Geminis are attracted to Virgos, Librans and Sagittarians.
Famous Geminis include Sir Arthur Conan Doyle , Marilyn Monroe and Ann Frank.
TEN THOUSAND FIRES
Burnt rafters reached skywards,
Like the arms of despairing slaves
From the hold of a ship
On a black ash filled sea,
Studded with the red sores of burning embers.
Steam seeped from the rubble,
As if trying to escape from human excreta
On unwashed deck boards,
Soaked with a century of sorrows;
The fireman sat, watching fire's aftermath.
He was resting by the appliance,
Its engine still warm but quiet,
His leggings clinging
With the sweat of the night;
Silver buttons hung limp from a sodden tunic.
A slaver's ship would have carried
Ten thousand slaves in its lifetime.
Smeared face, red eyes,
He felt like a slave
To the ring of the bells and human misery.
Three decades in chains,
He kept them well oiled, desiring no freedom.
This was his last fire,
Last effort of his suffering;
He lost a soul every time there was a call,
Sickeningly stifled at false alarms.
He had used ten thousand souls,
In the middle of meals
And startles from slumber,
Tugged tonight from the toilet, paper rammed in his pants.
His bladder was bursting,
Body functions once frozen by fire,
Would wait a while,
The pain of waiting
Benumbed by the wet cold of exposure.
He lit a squashed cigarette,
Never did buy a tin to protect them
Never would now,
Not in retirement;
A "smoke eating" fireman ironically needing nicotine.
He sucked in its sedation,
But many times he had done the reverse
With hot blooded breath
Into stilled mouths
Of old ladies, nose and lips of babes: some stayed silent.
When would his silence come?
He smoked ten thousand cigarettes a year Would that be his way,
Weak, wasting away
In a ward, helpless, decomposing with cancer?
The moisture and mist made him morbid.
He saw a fireman urinating on the last bull's eye
Of burning wood.
It made him laugh!
Must use all resources, a comic in carnage.
He would miss the childish acts, unique
To firemen venting suffocated stress,
Himself a prime target
In games of volley ball,
When his arms never coordinated with his brain.
He shivered, butt-end burning his fingers,
Engine as cold as the ten thousand gallons
Of putrid pond water
It had pumped onto
Screaming sparks and the ferocious flaming farmhouse.
The dampness of a lifetime of aftermaths
Was boring his bones, beating his bladder.
He relieved himself
by the appliance,
Mundane, momentary warmth on tired, frozen fingers.
His last moments on a fire ground,
His body longed to wrap itself around the cup
Of hot sweet tea
He had been given.
The relief crew arrived as he watched the dawn,
Burnt rafters silhouetted by the sphere
Of ten thousand fires that would never die;
A tear struggled, squeezed
And broke in freedom.
He slowly savoured the last of ten thousand, retained for himself.