The Language of Fire

As this day ends and before I sleep
I will go to the fire

I have burning in the other room
And switch off the light

I crouch down before it
The heat seems to wash me clean

The fire energises me, drawing me
Into the moment

Golden flameheads spiral into the higher
Spaces nearer the flue

And sparks of vivid copper and orange burst
Against the hot thermal screen

I am captivated by its mesmerising
Elemental beauty

It seems to have a language all of its own
And a deeply mysterious

Complex intelligence
Reminding me of the Sun in high bloom

Perhaps all fires speak to us each time
They burn?

And we keep missing it
We fail to decipher their nameless music

Because they communicate a higher knowledge
To a lower field of density

All we know is how to control a fire physically
How to exploit and to manipulate it

To capture some of its essence
But not a single mote of its alchemy

No matter

It just seems the right thing to do
To stand here waiting

To be rooted in the present
To have somehow activated a circuit

Simply by just being here
By just standing in my own truth

And to have opened to a larger part of myself
Towards the fire that burns endlessly

Within us all

That simple, unfailing, glowing enormity
We all must feel

When a thing of long yearning
Finally gets the opportunity

To shine and come through


Mike Davies
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