I See Fire

There is a beauty in fire that I have never been able to put into words. Maybe these are the words that I’ve never been able to say.

Clockwork Spires

We sit by the fire and watch the lazy flames lick their way up the wood, climbing higher and higher into the sky, the sparks shooting up into the stars as though they could join them there.

I shift in my camping chair a little and put my book down. Not that it’s not interesting—it is. Another one of those post-apocalyptic dramas where everyone focuses on the love triangle but really it’s about the political commentary and the what-ifs and the intensity of it all.

But I put it down anyway because really there’s not enough light to read by, not anymore. The sun has long since set, and the fire is flickering and unreliable. The fire. It pops and crackles almost constantly—probably the kind of wood we used—and I can’t help but look back to it every few seconds.

Look at the trees swaying in the wind above me,

View original post 513 more words


Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Let me know what you think.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s