Burnout

A thermodynamic reaction,

Catechism against the cold,

Lifelike, flicker, a dance granted form by gravity's pull,

Unfettered and Untethered,

Aloft, Alight, Unbound,

Without external pressure,

Pure, Balanced, and Round,

Though fuel is a burden, a necessity of cause,

The brightest burn, a scalding truth, heralds of pending loss,

Animus innate, yet grounded down the spine,

Of wicks not wickedness, a measure of its time,

Fires not malicious, mischievous, nor kind,

Awakened from its slumber, given furlough from its dreams,

Savior or destroyer, it cares not for mortal schemes,

-==-

I hear it's warm inside the darkness,

Of course.

How could it not be?

For it's the place where fire rests, when fuels cease to be,

They claim space is cold and lifeless, but I know this to be lies,

For in dark and cold; when truth be told,

All fire resides,

It slumbers ever hungry, a lifeless-deathless sleep,

Unending, unrelenting, until into our world it creeps,

A tiny spark, and from the dark the fire comes to call,

A dutiful beginning, the inevitable fall,

Kindling isn’t kindness and fires not a friend,

For each new spark, clawed from the dark,

Consumed until its end

A fleeting flickers dance, twirl, leap, and scorch,

Creator and destroyer, destined to pass the torch,