Wood chopping
Fire blazing
Flames are dancing
In the wind
Embers flying
Popping
Swirling round
Disserpating in its
Evanescent world
Where they go
No one knows
Telling futures
Telling time
But we cannot read
Cause we cannot see
We are blinded by
Our own limits and beliefs
That we hold on this plain
Of existance
On which we live
This earthly plain
Our fires blaze
They lose their spark
If it rains
Or someone puts
Our dwindlings embers out
Then we pass out
We lose our lives
Our last remaining embers
Are floating to the skies
Or floating in the earth
Of our evanescent lives
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