Some people feel like a fire I feel more like an ember still hot enough to burn if you get too close. I can flare into a fire if the right wind comes along, pushing me into the sky, the kind of fire that burns through the night rages through forests eats through earth but settles down again the kind to roast marshmallows over, or keep a cabin warm in winter. But the thing about being an ember, is the rain hurts. Some people grow from a good soak rising up through the earth reaching up towards the sun they feed, and pulse, and grow I shrink losing the warmth that makes me, me. soggy and steaming ash, acrid smoke curling into the sky gradually, until I disappear An ember doesn't like the rain. it's scared one day, the rain will put it completely out. And anyways, who could learn to love, something that, at the end of the day, after it tricks you with its warmth, after it's kind after it toasts your food and its heat kisses you, after all the effort you put into stoking back the flames, will still always burn you.