A thin crystal grows over the flame,
Inching up its tongues like ice.
Both burn with a raging intensity,
Contributing to each other’s pain.
The light shines through the creeping crystal,
Casting fantastic designs along the wall.
They dance in intricate choreography,
Twirling and dipping and leaping and flying.
Their lanky ephemeral forms lengthen
As the ice creeps ever higher.
The red burns low and sinks to orange
While yellow turns to gold.
Cold blue fire contributes its color—
Pale purple begins to appear.
Will the flame still burn
Within its cage of ice?
Will the crystal quell its heart
And keep it frozen for eternity?
Will the two become one,
Fusing together at last?