Such a fickle thing
A teardrop candle flame
Bastardized cousin
Of that human release
Granted by the sea
Flickering and fragile
Between fingers or breaths
That flame’s extinguished
Yet hold it to a book cover
And the world ever changes
Conflagration
By the deluge
Repudiated
Lest sourced not by wick or kindling
But by black oil, unrelenting
A forest burns fallow
scrub through ash emerges
The gnarled oak crowned, resplendent
Cycles and symbols, ancient and eldritch
Until the axe falls metronomic
Fickle fragility
Rendered obsolete by industry
A/N:
During recent edits I've dwelt on the nature of fire quite a bit. Enjoy the fruits of those musings.
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About the Creator
Matthew J. Fromm
Full-time nerd, history enthusiast, and proprietor of arcane knowledge.
Here there be dragons, knights, castles, and quests (plus the occasional dose of absurdity).
I can be reached at [email protected]
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