Flames

I like the way flames dance, elegant yet disorganized.

Careful yet careless.

On looking closer, you can distinguish the way the bright colour of yellow, orange and a tinge of blue at the wick come together yet remain independent of one another like a scattered family resembles.

They allow shadows to dance on the walls as the ombre light fills the room.

They give and forget.

You see flames, at first are considerate and then destructive. If you observe them long enough or choose to burn anything of once-upon-a-time sentimental value you will find this to be true. They lick at the crisp edges of papers meant to be forgotten and consuming it all, slowly and then completely as if they were allowing you time to reconsider your soon-to-be permanent decision facilitating destruction.

The paper catches fire and burns all too quickly, becoming so hot that one must immediately set it down for its inevitable end. You can only watch as the paper twists and curls under their maniacal influence just as people do with evil spirits residing within them.

Then once their task at hand is done, they flicker and fall prey to a gust of wind with smoke curling into the air, serving as a transient reminder of what once was burning so brightly.

After all, there is light…

and then nothing but darkness to follow.

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