I Write Poetry

it started with a spark,
then became a faint glow,
onto a small flicker,
progressing to a gleaming glint,
over time it flared up.
and before he knew it his heart was consumed by the wildfire.

cut to here and now.

He sits at the center of it all among the ash, his vision still spotted from the immense light.

yet the world carries on, nobody willing to tell him the flames have long died.

the reality he's just a poor fool who can't accept he's sitting alone in the cold dark.