Flame

I watch this flame pass
from match to wick,
gently stepping over
a great divide.
This flame and I
are not so different:
it comes into being from nothingness;
it eats and grows, smokes, and rests.
It gets angry,
destroys homes,
consumes flesh.
Sated, it becomes calm,
retreats into coals,
smoldering through the night.
Domesticated
by a piece of string,
it makes its home in a cave of wax.
It chases the shadows away
and stands watch through the night.
It sways
and dances in the darkness
before it is extinguished
in the blink
of an eye.