this life is going to take me

and it won’t thank me

like a flame, burning rich

if you can’t avoid the fire

let it burn you

let it eat you

let it blacken

with curling flames

a fire place

a red iron grate

coals that glow

in the belly of a lost cabin

in a blind blizzard

where forgotten winds

blow

a book left

that was loved

when the fire

burned him up

it was hell

it was passion

it was the charcoal dust of the dead

When we’re forgotten

when we’re taken

when our hearts hurt for something we cannot find

we search for the answers

the good book is not good to many

burning those who read it

but there are some words that stay closer

than a close friend

and we’ll keep reading them

until

the very end.