feelings, are like fire

my rusty stove holds these embers

burning low, unwilling to go out

friends, keep me going

kind company

people, I can trust

many, don’t understand me

and I don’t understand them

It’s difficult to be content

without a fire

I want to see it burning brighter

I want a forest fire

Sometimes, I want to burn my cabin down

but despite my ambition, or unstable nature, in a forest of steel and city lights

I feel, the best moments are when my fire keeps burning

and I can be warm, to someone else.

Most of what we do, is to get back to our fire

fools, venture into the cold

for too long.

I am a fool, testing the winter

because the wind whispers my name

between mountains.

I can’t blame

my destiny

Nobody can tell me, I should be warm, caring, and compassionate

feelings, are not a command

ice, shouldn’t be shamed, for being cold

but we are all responsible for our fire—

to not need respect, or the approval of men, is to be without humanity

cold, to the core.

We have to be honest with ourselves

Sometimes, we have to carry our fire in a lantern

to guide us out of the storm

I don’t like to move, because of the cold

I prefer to wait-out the weather

to hold-up, against the chill

with books, and tea, to warm me.

Part of this blizzard, I brought on myself

I am not one to seek experience, just to say, “I have experience.”

It must have meaning, like the woods, where I make my home.

I am not done suffering, but it must count

for something

At the end of my life, what will matter?

I’ve argued

listened

fought

and been friendly,

but there wasn’t a friend there.

Warmth, is a blessing from God

and what we do, should warm us

It should be

a fire

and the cold

rain

and the thunderous applause

shouldn’t matter.

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