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Fire has to burn.  
I wish I could hold it.  
Feel its flicker – blue flame  
luster spiraling along my lips.  
Have it dance on my fingertips,  
sweep across my longing skin
in streams of copper gold.  
Tuck it between my ribs  
and tame it.  
But fire has to burn.
There’s a God who enflames.
He puts fire in the head
and though I have run, the wind
has never extinguished the flames,
though I have swum, the depths
have never doused them,
though I have sung long,
the music has never drowned them out.

So I have sat and I stilled
and as the flames settled
I found they were a gift, a friend,
and that this friendship warmed me.
And we ate and storied
our way through the nights.

And the flames took hold
as intended.
After Sheila Moylan’s exhibition, ‘Fire in the head’, an old Celtic expression describing being illuminated by inspiration.
sheilamoylanart.com
See also Acts 2  “And suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. And divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance.”
hyun May 26
maybe fire is a synonym
of compassion, and we
interpreted it differently.

and so when i tell you
that my heart burns passionately,
it isn't to say that you'll
get burned—

it is to let you know that, sometimes,
pain is a precursor to happiness,
and that nothing comes
without a cost.
Cadmus May 24
🦅

Fly,
fierce child,
into the ruthless blue;

Let winds unmake you,
they will make you true.

The sky is cruel
but it remembers one:

The heart that dares to burn
brighter than the sun.

☀️
This poem is a brief invocation of courage, a metaphorical push from the ledge, urging the bold spirit to embrace risk, transformation, and pain as rites of passage. The “ruthless blue” is not only the sky but the vast unknown, the unforgiving realm of truth and transcendence. Only by allowing oneself to be “unmade” by elemental forces can the self be reforged into something authentic and luminous.
Cheyenne Apr 25
I have ended wars single handedly,
Brought gods broken to their knees,
And dragged down the very lights
From the gods of Heaven.

But my greatest victory
Was always that I was the fire,
That sparked your brightest smiles.
H May 21
Who knows what you think of me.
I know what I think of you,

Your smile like a fire that lights up the room.
Your hair ablaze like an auburn flame.
Your kindness, a light in the darkness.

You melt my heart, an ice cube in the heat.

We got on like a house on fire,
Then we heard the sirens…
They extinguished our flame.

I’m left in the rubble.
I can still hear your crackle.
Your brightness; burned into my eyes.

It was always going to be fleeting.
Fire burns after all.
You lied with grace.
I bowed with love.

You took my fire,
left me ash.

I saw your face,
and lost my faith.

You left.
Still,
you called me
light.
Ali Hassan May 17
A flame once thrived on outer heat,
In comfort’s arms, its life complete.
It danced on winds, so wild, so free,
Unknowing warmth could ever flee.

It never learned to guard its core,
Believed the warmth would ever pour
The world had fed its every spark,
And lit its path through every dark

But one still day, the skies turned gray,
The winds grew cold and pulled away
The warmth it knew slipped out of sight,
And left the flame to face the night

It gasped for warmth, for hands, for light,
But frost had chained its wings in flight
Its hues grew pale, its spark withdrew,
A golden heart turned cold and blue

It tried to shout, but none replied,
No flame to spark, no light to guide
It fought to burn but lost the fight,
Now flickered weak in ash and night

Deep in the dark, a whisper grew,
A hidden beat no one once knew
A memory kept, by heart it's known,
A spark that glows when all alone.

In that silence, a spark was born,
A brand-new blaze, untouched, untorn.
No sun, no wind could feed its flame,
It burned alone untamed, aflame.

It shed the wish for borrowed light,
And made its warmth against the night.
Not just to live, but to ignite,
And turn the freeze to glowing white

The cold around began to shift,
Its biting edge began to lift.
The flame, now still but burning deep,
Had taught the dark itself to weep.

And as the frost began to fade,
A dance of light and shadow played.
For even in the coldest night,
The smallest flame can birth the light.
Brian May 14
A gentle ember burns,
with orange lines that
dance in a slow tango,
trailing small hints of warmth.
Glowing brighter, brighter, brighter...

I see a star colliding,
a shattering of brilliant blue light,
floating across the lilac sky,
expanding carefully in the void,
forming patterns of disarray.

Glowing brighter, brighter, brighter..
The irony of writing a poem about sleep and dreams when im staying up and writing this XD. I wrote this cuz i need a small mental break from exams. Thank you for spending some time to read this poem :)
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