If you sat by the fire at the darkest of hours,
Would you feel a chill run across your arms?
Or the heat from the flames, licking the darkness in a red and orange light?
And if you spoke into the fire at the darkest of hours,
Would you hear your own sad whispers?
Or the replies of the flames, arguing amongst itself?
If you reached out, and barely touched,
Would you feel a burn on your skin?
Or the incredible power of the fire, strong enough to bring despair to the happiest?
And if you watched the fire for hours,
Would you see yourself as the fire sees it's self in your eyes?
Would you see the anger and heat in the curls of smoke?
Or would you see yourself as the sad and lonesome person you are,
Sitting in the darkest of hours by a fire?
If you cried into the fire,
Would your tears stop the heat?
If you just sat and watched those sad bits of you drop,
Would your tears stop your heat?
And if you sat by a fire at the darkest of hours,
Would the sun climb up and light the world?
Would all darkness vanish along with the wisps of smoke?
Where would it go if it left it's home, it's start ;
And are we all sitting by a fire,
Creating life as we watch the flames wither,
And awaiting our next hours,
Ones that are to make life brighter and happier?
Or are we just sitting by a fire,
Waiting for it's end,
So someone else will have their turn to sit there
And cry as they watch the beauty that could immediately turn into something worse?