Child of Fire Too long had the air now been too still, a mass that had grown in the sea of time, too old and too big to stay in this womb, now outgrew all its space, was crushed on itself and the skin of above green, white and blue, shook, shuddered and split. Earth spat at the sun, crackle-laughed at the ants, dying, fell at last to the sea of its birth, and they called it Krakatoa. Waves passed and forgot and the womb filled again. Out of the time and the dust and the ashes cold flesh rose anew and breasted the sea to bask in the sun. They call us the child of fire yet to come, and we wait with the sun, as the sea laps at Anak Krakatoa. Anak Krakatoa, Child of Krakatoa. Anak Krakatoa, Born of Krakatoa.