Hours turned into days, then weeks and months,
And yet the wooden logs stayed cool.
Abandoned and untouched, isolated from the world.

Suddenly, almost reaching the speed at which the fire has Diminished, a light spark landed in the exact middle of the logs.
Although it hardly changed a thing, it began the Tipping Point.
More and more sparks were shot into the logs,
Starting a small irrelevant fire.
But the sparks kept appearing, and after the months of coolness
Fire was born. Burning larger and larger. Creating heat and warmth. Sending a pleasant smoke with a sweet smelling aroma of cinnamon. The sparks have ended and yet the fire they created
Erupted the fireplace with life. Sweet, warm, cozy life.
That was missed, but never forgotten.
That seemed distant, but always desired.

This fire will burn on.
Regardless of heavy rain or wind.
This fire must burn on.
As it is the only thing keeping me sane.


-FreeMind