Sometimes one may feel like a flame

Dancing recklessly upon a candle’s gentle wick

Some may see beauty in its sways and dips

Or maybe even in the embers that gracefully fall

Possibly the wax’s subtle, yet sweet scent

I must be blinded by its brilliant light

Because I just can’t see its captivation

Flames are parasites

Fueled by fresh oxygen

Or the odorous black liquid from the depths of the Earth

They latch on

They consume

They leave nothing

Only death and charred remains

When given ample opportunity,

They strike mercilessly

Ridding Mother Nature of her life-giving glances and movements

Shifting the Earth into a black, molten wasteland

Smoked

Desolate

Yet, oddly peaceful

Even in the wake of immanent destruction

I find peace amongst chaotic disaster