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.