I am on fire.

From the great big backlog of things I thought about writing but never did.

I am on fire.

I take in fuels, among them oxygen. I give off heat and light of reason. Out comes so much carbon dioxide and ash. A walking conflagration in the shape of a man, hottest at it’s center with flows and circulations running wildly about within. Each cell is a miniature furnace, a great engine consuming it’s fuel to it’s own specialized end. To look at my hand is to behold an inferno, a continual blaze burning slowly towards it’s end – when at last the source is exhausted, and the fire goes out.

One Comment

  1. mandydax says:


    We are all children of the stars, and they died in childbirth. Spectacular deaths that leave a nebulous impression on the galaxy. We look to the sky and see our embryonic cousins in the shape of a crab, or a horsehead, or an eagle. And there are more aunts and uncles out there forming the elements of our future.