21 Oct 1997 00:24:40 -0700
Volcanic National Park, California :: 20 OCT 97
Licking flicker leaps tongue-like, sputtering, crackling fire.
Fire. Mesmerizing fire. What is it about fire? Warmth and light, the primal
need yes, but... Our backsides chilly, damp and our frontsides toasty
warm, hands outstretched, reaching to radiant heat. Campfire. Newspaper,
kindling: a match. The first faltering flickers; it catches. Some sticks
then logs, crackling in the twilight. Campfires shared with friends, contemplated
in solitude. The center, and the centre. Eyes cast in, seeing and not
seeing the embers glitter-glow in waves, the yellow golden guttering flames
jump and flitter. Where do we go? Into the fire, into thought, into self.
Fire, our companion, our guide.
Sulphur flare. Pungent air. Sputtering wick. Warm tones in amber
glow. Glass of wine. Friends or lovers? Flickering flame casts fluttery
shadow caress. Pooling wax gathers, balls, strains. Tension seeking release.
Teardrop of red plummets. Then a rivulet, then a river. Wickering flame
soars. An indrawn breath: the quickening. A smothering puff. Smoke tendril
ascending. Enveloping darkness yet flame persistent; the gathering embrace
lets afterglow linger.
~~~ Responses Sought ~~~
You can blow out a candle,
But you can't blow out a fire;
Once the flame begins to catch,
The wind will blow it higher.
From the song, "Biko."