Fire used to be soft
like pillows.
It would caress your face;
kiss your cold cheek.
Flames were light
and swayed like willows,
giving heat when it was warmth
you did seek.
But man used fire
to do their evil will,
They bent it 'till not sing
but burn did it.
Then fire was known
as one who eats and kills,
and flesh of man was scarred
by flames that bit.
The beauty of the fire
that spins and twirls,
a twisting flame that writhes
and causes screams;
It's lovely ropes of death,
brighter than pearls,
only harmed
when it was given the means.
Fire's softness was taken
by the man,
So let us try and restore it
if we can.