While walking down a New York city street I came upon a most peculiar thing;

I was shocked at what I saw, could it be real? Or am I insane?

And so I looked about me to see if others saw the same.

And they did not, and walked as if nothing was wrong;

But still I saw this thing, a thing so strange. It was the specter of an old man with a cane,

Standing atop a pile of rubble with arm stretched out,

 Saying, “come with me, come with me, and I’ll show you the flames.”

I was uncertain of what to do, and was a bit fearful too,

Until I gazed upon his face, so sad, so blue,

This was a gentle soul, it must be true.

So I took his hand and joined him in the rubble.

“Follow me,” he said as he led the way, “follow me through this trouble;

Follow me through this terror and power,

Where seconds seemed like minutes, and minutes, hours;

Follow me through the debris of these towers.”

As I walked the ground beneath me shook,

And the old man pointed down, “Look!” he said, “look!

These are the bodies that were thrown and tossed

Off of the building, the corpses of those lost.”

“They were thrown?” I asked, “Thrown from the top?”

“They threw themselves,” he replied, “the flames were too hot.”

And as I looked about my feet I saw them;

The bodies were gnarled, twisted in knots,

Their flesh was still there as if left to rot,

It was awful and I screamed out, their bodies had been eaten

By the flames, and the ghost turned to me and said, “Do you see them?”

I nodded, and as I looked closer upon his face

I saw the most terrible burns; even his gentle eyes couldn’t mask the pain,

Standing there with his branded face,

I asked him what happened, he said, “The flames, the flames.”

He had taken me through time and with each breath

I could smell the horrible scent of death,

And I asked him, “why show me these terrible things?”

He looked at me and said, “So you’ll remember the flames,

Should it take the sight of a burnt body, a loved one in a coffin,

For us to remember and mourn the forgotten?”

As I stood there and looked in his eyes and sobbed,

He returned me to the street, but left me a sight so macabre,

I had seen it, the rage, hate, pain, and the power,

Of the flames that came with the planes that were aimed at the towers.