I read somewhere that fire needs 3 things: fuel, heat & oxygen.
ONe DaY, ordinary I'm sure
the extraordinary looked me in the eye,
a hide and seek like no other
For sometimes the breath finds a way in, a way past the guard,
lulling them to sleep.
Relieving them of duty.
And there you are. Never so far away, a drop of breath & you consume
the invitation to be.
To claim the right
the birth rites.
For you know what it takes to be your full
size & you know what it costs to be small.
A managed fire.
For fire ravages, it clears, it screams
of truths held in suffocation.
How grateful I am of your pride.
Your refusal to not merely exist.
How you spew forth from volcanoes & mascara tubes
in the dead of night
taking centre stage & leaving scorched remains.
There's no denying you.
So breath is cut to smother the flames
and steam is released as tears.
Yet here you are.
A relentless flame who roars for those who dare to hear.
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