Orange marauding flames lick at the edges of the paper curling it into flimsy fragments of charred remains. Tufts of smoke wafting up
permeating the air, with its rancid pungent odour
There, yet the next minute not there
Sudden flare of sparks and then nothing but dust and soot the feeble reminders of a fire long gone out
Fire!!
The mind conjures up the feeling of excruciating heat and pain.
Beautiful hues but a destructive force leashed within…
Or is it?
Just the power granted to something as mundane as fire
By the awe of our conjurances
Of our imagination
And expectation.
Aren’t most things magnified out of proportion by our minds?
Which fear the inexplicable…or more honestly refuse to seek explanations…
The same fire with the wanton destructiveness of a forest fire,
Or the fire warm and comforting on a cold evening in a cozy fireplace…or the inextinguishable fires of the soul…from which we find no respite…are they all the same?
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