The old fire ring of stones
Contains charcoal chips of wood
Barely burning, just a few embers
All paper and kindling carbonized
Oh, how to keep it going when
The forest is bare of naked branches
How to fuel the fire
To heat up one’s life
Is there anything wrong
With wanting a little warmth?
So what if the fire leads nowhere?
Is it so different from reality
That sometimes halts abruptly
Due to whatever he may see and dislike
Whatever way she falls short of expectations?
To me, fantasy is easier to fuel…
© 2015 ViataMaja