Flame of deceit engulfed and destroyed the vast fields of my heart.

Composed of slender dry blades of trust and love; that danced to that old song together like watching a sea of hopeless romance.

The blazing fire grew hastily.
Greedily feeding for its own agenda,
it leaves no trace of remorse.

All of my fields reduced to wisps of ash in a mere instant. The grains are no more and the harvest shall yield no food this season.

Fearing the worst, I prepare for the work ahead to replenish my crop. In good time, the new growth will sprout.

If I am patient, if I tend with care, I will confidently provide an abundance of new produce.
Insurmountable quantity and resilient to the enviable elements.

I say, sometimes the brushfire must be burned in order for new growth to take its place.

Remaining ever vigilant, I fend off the selfish inferno from ruining my fields again.