The Fire
The fire calls no company
It burns because it must
No one asks it why it glows
Or how it guards the dust
It dances slow without a name
Its voice a crackling sigh
Fleeting warmth and shifting shape
Beneath a changless sky
No stories beg to be confessed
No promises are made
The fire is a loyal guest
Who leaves when night must fade
It is not friend it is not foe
It answers no one’s plea
It lives alone within the flames
And mirrors men like me
We are not lost we are not found
We do not ask for more
We build our circle out of light
We rest it on the floor
So let the others chase the dawn
Or speak of love and grace
The fire and I will hold our post
In each our rightful place
-Winquind-
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