I had a fire once 
I remember gathering the sticks, 
the first sparks 
My hope in the glowing embers 
I fed the fire and in turn, the fire gave me 
warmth and light 
It burned for a long time 

Time passed and I decided the fire 
should be bigger 
I put many sticks and logs into it 
eager to watch it grow 
It seemed like my life depended on 
fueling that fire 
I fed the fire until the pile was 
overflowing with logs 
Until I couldn’t even see the flame 
Until there was no warmth or light 

Eventually, I realized I had suffocated the fire 

But instead of starting a new one like a sensible person might 
I threw kerosene on it in a fit of desperation 
It worked 
The fire burned brighter and bigger than ever before 
And I was bathed in warmth and light 
The fire surrounded me 
And then it was hot 
Very hot 
Burning 
Smoke filled my lungs and I couldn’t breathe 
But I didn’t care 
So long as my fire burned bright I was happy 
I gathered what I could and I fed it more 
The fire grew closer and closer 
My eyes melted and I was blind to the light 
But I didn’t care 
So long as the fire grew I couldn’t die 

Then the fire did something very peculiar 
It killed me
After all, it could feed itself now
It wasn’t until I set the whole forest ablaze 
that I realized what my obsession had caused 
I was so concerned with feeling the true 
might of the fire that I never bothered to 
consider the consequences 
Now I am a ghost, and I can’t start a fire 
There wouldn’t be a point if I could 
Because I can’t feel warmth or see light

I had a fire once 
It burned out, and I’m waiting for someone to
throw kerosene on it