Midnight coals
to diamond flames
to sapphire smoke.
That is the life of a glorified spark.
Crystallized, beautiful, bright-
but premeditated.

People love to watch the flicker of flames
beyond the boundary and security of an iron gate.
Kindle the piercing black of night, burn the bonfire.
Let it grow larger than life
but not larger than you.
To look is fascinating.
To see is meditative.
To touch is torturous.

Scarred coals
to manipulative flames
to scorching smoke.
That is the existence of a spark deemed broken.
Frayed, banished, expendable-
but unpredictable, spontaneous.

People love to see fiery deterioration
until they find their own face singed by flame.
Let the red hot coals reign over enemies
but don’t let the smoke cloud your incentive.
To look is to assume.
To see it to contemplate.
To touch is to remember.

So far, I’ve looked (assumed)
and I’ve seen (contemplated)
but is there a reason
we don’t play with fire?