By Luke Aymon
I burned.
I couldn’t tell you why;
It was beyond me.
It felt natural.
My soul roiled in the blaze.
Peering in, columns of
Fear and delight vacillated
Faster and faster,
So as to appear one and the same.
Twisting arms escaped the pyre,
Scorching others in reach.
I felt sorrow,
but only the vague outline.
Isn’t this what a fire is supposed to do?
The flames waned,
And I felt as close to concord
As dissonance could get.
This time -
When gasoline rained down
To stoke the glowing coals,
I defied my nature.
I asked what it meant to burn,
Whether ignition was inexorable;
And, if not - for an escape.
And thus,
“I” ceased to be.