The season that is playing now
          brings forth a sorry tune.
No more Southern breezes.
          Sweet memories of June.

I find I am outside the ring.
           Within I tend the fire.
Ablaze not only leaves and sticks.
           I burn my soul entire.

The flames lick my wounds,
            but do not heal the pain.
Fire condemns, it won't create.
           What's gone is gone and naught remains.

And yet, I cannot walk away.
          This fire, it is mine.
Born the fruit of friction;
           Immortal and Divine.

What purpose had I hoped to serve?
           It never works as planned.
The servant now the master,
          I must feed it on demand.

Eventually, I am consumed;
          A victim of attrition.
The flames will wear us all away
         once we provide ignition.

I find I am inside the ring.
         I no longer tend the fires.
Ablaze is only leaves and sticks.
         I've burnt my soul entire.