A fire burns, its embers bright,
its flames consume the light,
it churns out black that replaces the white.
Its smoke gives birth to a being of spite,
charred and ready to fight.
To harm is its aim,
to deliver justice its claim.
It pushes the spring winding it tight,
Mistaking its shrunken size for might.
It releases the spring with pride,
the spring hits him with a quick stride.
It passes through his smoke, causes no pain,
but a lesson does the being gain.
He is nothing but the smoke unreal,
created to carry out a fictitious ordeal.
What is the ordeal that gave it credence,
it is vindication and its harming presence.