The Fire;

With grace and beauty, it flowed
Like river, mad and free.
As to the sun, so grand, it glowed;
Yet so gentle-just as I can be.

Brightly, in a scarlet flame it blazed.
From time of glint, it had been burning,
As wind blow, the more it raged;
So deep, so majestic, so warming.

Strong, yet still was faint,
In time, its flames had softened.
Dimmed as there was no taste
For gratitude of warmth it granted.

Once ablaze, now has gone-
From dancing flames, now frost abides.
Bare and forgotten, wish time will come
To flare the fire to which once resides.

Jan Rheinold Amoyo
February, 26 2003