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