Fire’s first inside you, a flicker of light,
a moment’s passion, sudden heat or spirit sign:
sunflowers against summer blue, shooting stars piercing black.
The blazing camp fire, logs stacked high,
is cold petals, grey ash in your hair,
when you wake up in the morning.
Home’s tame version is the same,
a hearthful of cinders and charcoal;
if you’re lucky a red ember still shining.
Naming is losing. Fire’s a flicker of light,
a moment’s passion, sudden heat or spirit sign:
tongues of fire above the apostles’ heads.
Through fire, through earth, through wind,
we know the world. Sit in the dark and hear
the world hum, watch the electrocuted sky
as fireworks burst and spray above,
explosions of scribbled colour. The night burns;
bonfires collapse, flame, flare and glow.
Naming is losing. Fire’s first inside you,
a flicker of passion, sudden heat or spirit sign;
in partnership with water, earth and air.
© Rupert M Loydell
Illustration Nick Victor