Fire
We each are given a small, orange glow.
The glow of an ember,
The glow of a flame.
It is our job to stoke it,
To feed it,
To keep it alive.
Many mental elements threaten the flame.
Waters of depression,
Crisp, cold air of loneliness,
Or the heat of being lost and forgotten
In the crowd of fire.
But fires never truly die when they go out,
They start again as embers.
What happens after that is one soul decision,
One single thought.
"Will I let it burn?
Or will I let it flicker out, cold and scorched?"
When one flame goes out, and the ember turns cold,
The flames around never burn the same,
Whether as bright or as dark.
When there was one more flame
Burning along side them, that unique spark.
YOU ARE READING
The Rhythmic, Blue Cat
PoetryThis is my poem book. Enjoy, since many people have enjoyed my poems! These are my feelings, so please do keep that in mind. Yes, the cover is Bluestar. I couldn't find a blue cat other than her, who is arguably the most famous blue cat.
