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Fire's Reflection

Born to Be Wild

By Christian LeePublished 9 months ago 1 min read
Fire's Reflection
Photo by Jan Kopřiva on Unsplash

Called many a thing;

Ablaze, reaction, wildfire...

I know nothing of jaunts and the things I have burned,

Neither of the success I have earned.


Sometimes miniature, the tip of a match,

Near-massaged by fingers to a cigarette.

And then I fall, slowly into a rush,

My embers ever-brightly as a blush.


From splinters perhaps I first came;

The man primitive had dreams,

Rubbed the wood which became cinder,

The darkness of times my light made shiver.


But where is it I come from, so cold of gleam?

Is there a crevice where I spark to flight?

All metamorphosed of rage, insentient beast—

This my woe, my victims my treat.

performance poetry

About the Creator

Christian Lee

My nom de plume is Lee Arachnid; think: spider-poet. Here you will find non-fiction and poetry. I interweave elements of nature and my personal experience into uniquely crafted stories. I love idleness, Felidae, literature, and soundscapes.

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