Sitting by the fire
I cast my thoughts to burn
They offer no resistance
Edges curling
Tinder turned
Embers shooting sparks
Deep into the sky
A million stars above
A trillion grains beneath
And though the very middle
Billions of human moments
flowing, glowing,
Snuffing
out.
Trees turn to timber
Timber turns to wood
Wood turns to ash
That rises on the breeze
Lightly as a feather
It lands upon the leaves
We are particles of remnants
Who pretend we are not mad
Resisting the thought
That one day
We
*how many thoughts we think and yet we avoid the one thing that makes everything fall silent in the mind, snaps our focus into the present moment.
We are born for dying, and we are dying all the time. It’s not a morbid thought for me, I try to keep it top of mind. This morning I wrote on a stack of post it notes 50 (anything more will be a bonus, anything less and I won’t know it) and each year, I’ll tear off a sheet.
Always heart felt Yassie. I think best when I don’t think at all and instead just feel with the synapses in my heart and gut.
Really good, Kate. Such a gorgeous description of open fire, and then to turn it to metaphor is perfect. I agree with you, as only slightly older, that there’s nothing morbid about the time to come. It’s simply a different, and arguably more informed, adventure. 🙂 ❤️
Keeps things in perspective Camilla 😊
Indeed!
Death is a part of life, best to accept it. Loved the poem.
Thanks Pooja 😂
Oh gosh that was entirely the wrong emoji!
Lol yeah, don’t worry typos happen!