I am cradling a handful of ash,
soot has darkened my arm and
clothing, but this shall pass
for my ember flickers and begs
me to pass oxygen across
its naked flame.
It desires to consume the room
(though assuringly me
untouched in order to help
the cultivation)
and I willingly give it my all!
I breathe onto it gently, teasing
the lick of flame upwards and
outwards,
as it grows and spreads from hand
to floor, spilling itself hungrily
over kindling that I placed,
wood that aches to be incinerated
in the pursuit of my dreams.
The hallway behind scorched
and singed with the past,
when I tended to fires before.