There is this Fire in my mind
Bright and warm
Sparking, threatening
Mirrored of a thing quite kind
But that mirror holds sharp edges.
I hold the image dear to me
Like it's real
Like it matters
If the real Fire could but see
Would it condemn the illusion?
And what of my own disgrace?
Unthinking
Habitual
Lines of errors to erase
The hidden cost of fantasy
Are we so truly alone?
Does Fire dream?
Do I appear?
Are the answers best unknown?
That mirror holds sharp edges too.
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