Flickering and dieing
Slowly but surly
The flames die
Only to be shot up again
By a word or thought
The food; the wood
The change, occurs,
Takes place though it all
As the white core
Is followed by the
Blue destruction
With the read and orange glow
Some may call it pretty
Some may call it hurtful
But most of all its there
Once started you can’t change…
Its there; a fact now
No matter how quickly doused
Or slow to die
It’s happened
The change has taken place
No matter how small
There is no turning back
Not now

 
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