Embers Burn

Beneath a soft ring of ashes Embers burn.
Quietly fading from a flame
Suffocating and slowing cooling
Sleeping beneath the blanket they made.

Wood became a tool of fire,
But it has nothing more to give.
The fire ate and wanted nothing to drink,
But soon it may sip a cool death.

Trapped within the walls of an initial purpose
Of cooking, or forging, or refining
The Embers have no new converts--
No use, no new tool or task.

The fire became something it is not - restful.
Waiting, it will slowly die.
Not forgetting that it needs
More than itself for life.

But, the attempt to stomp it out
Gave the embers flight.
Into the wind and dark sky
Gently, softly, silently the fire flies.

The weak Embers fade and vanish in darkness.
Those with more to give of themselves
Float down slowly anticipating
A transfer of heat with a touch.

Passion has its place again.
Heat will transfer and ignite another
The ember of flight will fade
But the fire's purpose will have its way.

Marc Amesse
July 14, 2005