Firelight

Firelight at night

To gaze into a campfire at night

And see nothing…

For the common man

Is an impossible feat

For one’s primal brain (not unlike a moth)

Is drawn to the flame

And will command no less than

A front row seat

One’s mind can but wonder

When one falls under it’s spell

When one stares into and ponders

It’s magic movements and smell

In the flames can be seen

The genesis of dreams

The maker and creator 

Of all things…(so it seems)

A refuge…a respite

A genie’s lamp, an omen maker

For the disparate…the desperate

The giver…and the taker

The sparks become comets

Tracing pathways in the skies

And leave tracery of lace

E’en behind lids of closed eyes

The pops and cracks are the heartbeat

Of this strange carmine creature

That we can only gaze into…

and fashion faces familiar

In the mordant glow

Of flames that but glimmer

Pulling one’s gaze to coals 

That grow dimmer

The glaze leaves one’s eyes

And the spell is broken 

As the fire leaves the light

with not a word spoken

Dreams and mem’ries

Rise upon ashes so light

And waft away gently

‘Til far out of sight

Ah, The pleasure

Nay!…more like the treasure

Of gazing at leisure

Into a campfire

…at night…

 

Reviews

[Tony Jordan]

David you really did paint the image of the fire well. All of the idiosyncrasies that mesmerise us. (I was quite the dandy though and would often run in the opposite direction of the wind to avoid getting my clothes smokey - not quite the 'outdoors spirit' but hey...)
A fine study and excellent poem.