Wednesday, 26 January 2011

Having a fire every night:

Getting it started is the hardest thing, 
But once its going its pretty easy to keep on. 
A cleansing ritual, 
4 logs a night, 5 if I’ve had a bad day. 
I just watch it.
It makes me feel small, insignificant 
Compared to the heat and power in front of me. 
But sometimes I look and I see vulnerability, 
The hint of fragility in between the flickers.
Coming down in the morning I can smell its remains
Lingering in the corners of the room.
The secrets it charred the night before, 
A memory of the act of forgetting. 

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