Fire keeps demanding
a fresh look.
Clean it out or I’ll do it for you.
Fire wants some breathing room,
Fight fire with fire.
Fire knows what it is, if we don’t.
Our lungs are on fire.
The world’s lungs are on fire,
and all the help that’s offered
is turned away.
So many fires that ice age ice melts
and spills over our glittery cities.
Mastery of fire
only happens when you are fire.
I don’t speak in symbols.
Symbols are the clumsy names
we give to what we can’t see.
It begins at the subatomic level,
needs breathing room,
a dry soul.
Any spark will do the trick.
Don’t get cocky but accept no help.
Keep it small.
S. Robbins, from Readings