Attend
How light shines
Through candle’s thin sides
Little bowl of Fire.
At the Darkest,
Coldest
Turn of the year
Thrill to something— anything
Lit up.
I see how it was
Back in the caves
How we believed
Fire
Was
Magic.
Though we learned to
Welcome it as
Warmth and Weapon
Our first love was
And always is
Light.
Puff Of Smoke Poems 