Fire dreams in her iron bed, cozy in the metal that glows. Her flames transform the wood into the most temporary of beauties; hot ribbons of light. There are times she sparks, as if she wants more than one crazy way to dance, as if she needs to leap, to fly, willing to land where she may. She is the most beautiful weapon of them all. Shining with all her glory. The warmth along with the welcoming feel she gives but as you slowly approach her, she snarls and bites. So warm, so beautiful, so welcoming. Yet, everything you love could be gone in minutes. The once pale blue sky is now shielded by a veil of darkness as the smoke swallows up the whole sky. She could be seen, sneaking her way out from the rows of houses together. Beside her, the blue water rushes down the nothingness, giving the effect of multiple waterfalls rather than just one. Then it flows on its way, unconcerned, as if nothing had occurred. It is not the gentle sort of waterfall you might see in a home garden, it is the kind where torrents of water are poured over rocks hard enough to crack your skull and mash your brains on the way down, then swirl in a deep pool below, enough to drown you if you survived the fall. Still, the sight was spectacular, for everyone stood in awe, watching as they (fire and water) worked in harmony, coexisting as one, yet different. Without fire, there is no passion, no love, no drive and without water, no serenity, no restraint and no peace.
Comentarios