FadedAlphabet
Pusher of The Giant Red Button
Fire, I have found, is both a wonderful and terrible thing.
Fire is warmth, heating us when we need to escape the cold. A warmth that blankets us, giving a comfort that we cherish after freezing.
Fire is the hiss of pain as you stand too close, the unexpected heat catching you off guard.
Fire is the spark of an artist's inspiration as they stare into the embers.
Fire is that empty bottle of alcohol that sits beside you try to forget the world late at night.
Fire is the creation of food for all to enjoy.
Fire is the burnt bread when left in the oven too long.
Fire is the forge of creation.
Fire is the great consumer, destroying all it touches in a blaze.
Fire is a burning beacon of hope, transcending the reach of time.
Fire is uncaring.
Fire simply is.
Fire simply is.
Yes, fire simply is.
As I looked at the burning city in front of my eyes, fire was all I can think about.
Fire, taking away the things I love.
I watched the city as it burned. Try as I might have, the city burns.
The fire had been started. The fire would burn. Fire would consume.
And in the end, there is ash.
But I do wonder what will come of this.
The fires have burned through the night, and now the sun has risen once again.
Fire has changed us. But we are like those fire seeds. From the ashes we will sprout again. From the ashes we will rebuild. Things are different, but things will begin again.
So a story begins.
Fire is warmth, heating us when we need to escape the cold. A warmth that blankets us, giving a comfort that we cherish after freezing.
Fire is the hiss of pain as you stand too close, the unexpected heat catching you off guard.
Fire is the spark of an artist's inspiration as they stare into the embers.
Fire is that empty bottle of alcohol that sits beside you try to forget the world late at night.
Fire is the creation of food for all to enjoy.
Fire is the burnt bread when left in the oven too long.
Fire is the forge of creation.
Fire is the great consumer, destroying all it touches in a blaze.
Fire is a burning beacon of hope, transcending the reach of time.
Fire is uncaring.
Fire simply is.
Fire simply is.
Yes, fire simply is.
As I looked at the burning city in front of my eyes, fire was all I can think about.
Fire, taking away the things I love.
I watched the city as it burned. Try as I might have, the city burns.
The fire had been started. The fire would burn. Fire would consume.
And in the end, there is ash.
But I do wonder what will come of this.
The fires have burned through the night, and now the sun has risen once again.
Fire has changed us. But we are like those fire seeds. From the ashes we will sprout again. From the ashes we will rebuild. Things are different, but things will begin again.
So a story begins.
