Fire flys like fireflies

Short prose

Emotions are like a fire. They are nutured their entire existence to some extent. The more wood you put on the more fire you get out: the more the output. And like fire, when you starve it, the output is lessened. Fire is a human tool, however; like other human tools it gives back tenfold the energy put in it. So why not give to a peron's fire a bit? If they give back ten times that.

Rare, is it, that the fire is extinguished. But it happens. Once evening I woke to a scary truth that doused my fire with a sorely cold water of sobering reality, hopelessness, helplessness. This fire had no hope of being rekindled. But if you've ever tossed water on a fire you see some embers escape. My last ember, she drifted through wind and before she got a chance to go out to the winter air. She landed on a pit cultivated with wood, germinated with fuel, and dry as the sun itself. And thus another fire was lit, different from the last but nonetheless bringing about a certain sense of kinship.

Author's Note

Just made it as I went. Had a song come on I liked and had to look at the name.