Only embers at my feet
make unborn hours seem so sweet.

A heavy wood is where I stand
upon the fire of sun-scorched sand.
These blistered toes so yearn to move
but each step does not behoove.
Every step from burning coals
leaves my heart with yet more holes.
Nothing gained nor hardly lost-
the embers call for life as cost,
where elsewhere shatters soul with frost.

But each days pain- I do not remember,
passing through each charred December,
I dare not venture from the ember.