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The Fire
 
The gray and twisting helix,
of thin but visible smoke,
rises, without effort,
with no obvious intention,
or preternatural motivation,
spiraling in organic shape,
from the erratic, jagged edges,
of fire writhing about on wood,
alchemistically changing it,
removing the very foundation,
with which it owes existence,
while escaping pockets of air,
scream in simultaneous agony and delight,
trapped beneath the oak sinews,
years innumerable.

By southernblood

© 2018 southernblood (All rights reserved)

 

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