Sparks fly free into the night reaching for the stars but fading to quickly. Orange, blazes against the moon and I see myself leaning into it. Closer and closer the burning of wood, and it’s producing smoke tangles my throat, then twists the air in my lungs. Farther and farther I lean away. I try to follow the flying dust but it soars too fast and my eyes cannot perceive. I see myself running against the darkness of the forest, tracing the perimeter of flames reaching towards the heavens. My mind is engulfed, watching the ashes collect quickly underneath the wood. Black and scorched. This is the time to tell me your stories; to sing your songs and share your jokes, while the echoes from the limited danger is muffled by the silence.

I burn within the flames though my skin is not scorched. Then I stick a finger out and the chill of the air reminds me I don’t want to leave. So I stay within the flames as the flames stay within me, and I am not afraid. I see no one around me but I know I’m not alone. I know I’m not alone…