Drifting in the folds of a spark you come
as a splash of cold water
in my face. Appears, I underestimated,
how hot those feelings race.

Have I been walking on a path without alarm,
while the forest descends on me?
Do my toes point me to a smile,
peace can never see?

What is this that springs from every breath I take,
as a spark ignites a flame?
    Why do I see it shaking hands,
in shades of red the same?