That Fire

That fire, doth desire
That which fuels its flame.
That light, so bright
Consumes each single grain.

The flames, they lick
Oft times, they’ll stick
Eating, reaching higher.

They’ve walled this room
So full of mire,
And perched atop,
A glowing spire.

It crawls and trawls,
Flames lurch, then fall
Devouring that,
Which fell last Fall

Always fed,
Never stead.
Keeps moving, soothing
The fires’ pure anger
Just smoulders, brooding.

This light, intense.
Quick warmth, a glimpse.
In the end, a pile
Of fiery bile.
No life remains.
No anger, no smile.
Just a pile.
Barren, earthen styled.

Gone away, her smile.
With the others lost, rank and file.