Strangers marvel as they pass
At the fire that never leaves
Yet barely any stop to look
Or rest their aching knees.
The furnace which you left alight
Still rages without witness;
A thousand feigned attempts to douse,
It burns on without forgiveness.
The fire burns brighter still
Flames cracking the furnace
Yet the fuel which burns brightest
Is often the easiest missed.
The fire rages, crackles, hisses
No moisture left to soften,
In the nighttime as well as day
The fire sits forgotten.
Another sits, hands outstretched
Loosening their furrowed brow
They smile, stand and turn around
Then wonder back into the cold.
The fire leaps our, barely contained
Destined to grow stronger
Where others burn themselves to sleep
The furnace melts instead.
‘One may have a blazing heart in one’s soul and yet no one ever came to sit by it. Passers-by only see a wisp of smoke from the chimney and continue on their way’
Vincent Van Gogh