Monday, 29 August 2011

The firelight is a crackling presence in my heart.
It lies sat at my feet, curled like a slumbering wolf.
I can see the snoring, hissing sparks of its breath
Drifting upwards in the smoke of its dreams.
I am scared of it and drawn towards it;
Do you think it will bite me if I touch it?
The radiance it leaks so casually is staining everything
Golden, and it leaves its value everywhere.
There is no discrimination, no choice in what it warms;
It leaves itself everywhere, diminishing with every
Stick, twig and log it devours.

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