火焔

They say to never play with fire.

In its petite form, we admire the beauty it glowers with, the warmth it radiates. It's what keeps us warm and fuzzy on cold nights, the light that illuminates us in the dark, the symbol of celebration as fireworks light up the dark sky in dazzling colours.

Fire can turn into foe in but a split second, reducing to ashes everything that dares to stand in its way, evolving into wildfire as it devours its unsuspecting prey.


It rises to the sky, majestic yet menacing, and we are reminded that there are some things that we cannot fight empty-handedly.

It's painful when the flame licks your outreached finger. With no luck, a scar marks the place as an unwanted memento of the experience.

The burning doesn't last indefinitely. When air is exhausted, the chemistry runs out, and the now timid flame breathes no more.

It leaves despair even after it is gone, the memories vivid, the aftermath real. The lingering smoke, thick and gloomy, can still suffocate.

Do we pick up the pieces on the charred ground and start anew? Or do we leave everything behind, running towards another light? Will that light promise a better outcome?

If you can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen.

...Looks like distancing is the solution. I wonder how long it'll be until I become famished and malnourished though...

Current Music: Sweet Dreams - Beyonce