Existence is a raging bonfire:

Risk, love, thought, desire.

Devouring more to reach ever higher

Consumption of all it acquires.


Some memories are pallid ash

Light and flake, swirling mass

Clinging, climbing upward drafts

Dissolving into the dark and vast.


Others hiss and spit and spew,

Unprepared to burn all through,

To yield to fire and to flue.

They die neither silent, nor subdued.


Whatever remains in the great ash heap,

When every ember falls to its sleep,

Refined by fire, purest of deep,

Is forged alone for the eternal keep.


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