I sat one night
well past midnight
watching the flames
dance in an old wood stove.
I let my mind travel,
thinking about all those things
I wish I couldn’t remember.
I kept looking at the fire,
watching the birch and maple
form little vignettes
a dancing form of retribution.
I only wanted to know
to forever ask the questions,
always remained in my mind,
always asking for some outlet
some way to define
our purpose,
well, existence,
some reason to understand,
why then,
why not now,
what is it that keeps speaking to me,
but when I look deep into the fire,
all I see is beauty,
I wonder about love,
and how it happens
sitting by the fire.
apersonaljourney - stories of love 