August 4, 2010
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The wood crackles and pops among the blaze.
Some warmpth escapes between the orange tongues
While you do lounge and slip into a daze,
Gazing as rising smoke forms little rungs
Amongst the rocks all resting in a ring.
Light seeps into the highest heavenly voids,
Where flocks of nightly birds their songs do sing,
And the lightbulbs of night are wond'rously poised.
As time goes on, the searing furnace fades,
And Jack begins to strengthen his tight grasp.
And nights presence, it knowing does aid.
The inferno breathes one last dying rasp.
Some people try to help with allies neigh,
While others think that sleeping dogs should lie.

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