Fire

Burning…does that spark any distinct memory as in location, stimuli, an inkling? Burning, as in unstable state, seethe with what it means to turn matter into smoky air, burnt bridges but cremation and incarnation of time and place, thermomagnetic transportation perhaps it was never there in the ashes or stars carried away in heat waves. A ray of sun then magnetized on top of the red dirt, bark dances low and white in motes on the trail before me, nymphs and fireflies and feel always lead to castles and sweet escape of now, smolder and embering to meet me another way. 


Painting by Philippe de Champaigne (c.1645-1650) in  [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.