Bonfire

The sparks shimmer against the black backdrop.

Smoke consumes the lungs of the air.

It gnaws at the trees,

And they fall.

The sparks rage, melting the backdrop;

Blurring the green, fading to the black.

But the sparks settle too, like all of us would;

Either getting lost in the sky

Or finding their way home.

Either way,

They fall.

Where do we start?

From the ground, of course.

And we will make our way to the top

Slowly burning, crawling and crawling.

Becoming a spark;

Lifting off.

Our foundations may break,

Our paths may burn,

Struggling to withstand the fire.

But there are always new ways,

Trees planted, bigger heights

And as the fire keeps burning, so will you go,

Finding your way along the black backdrop

Of wonder and possibility

Of waywardness, pathless.

Only you know where you go.

By: Mateen Manek