The night illuminates with an enraged body of heat.
And though it’s light like day,
The dark has left its mark.
I wonder to myself:
“Has the dark gone?
Or has the light come?”
Then,
“Has the cold faded?
Or has the warm invaded?”
Maybe it doesn’t really matter.
And then, when the coals are due,
The fire can be made anew,
With bold, thick logs added on later.
Yet, the darkness still surrounds.
The cycle goes round and round.
The fire destroys and annoys,
Painfully piercing the dark’s hold.
Through it all, there is a comfort in the fear.
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