The Quiet Fire

A poem about a quiet fire.

Flames light the room and pull you closer with gentle gravity.
The flame is still and burning steadily,
until you lift your hands to feel its warmth.
Then the flame is a desert oasis, slipping out of sight a little with each move
until it is gone.

Elusive, it burns on,
that quiet fire.

Resist its gravity, move around it at a distance.
Its flames spread, its soft embers a perfect reflection of beauty.
The quiet fire grows, uninhibited, not up toward the sky
but all around,
until you are gone.

Within the stillness of these flames is a world never seen.
Its light enfolds a world of beauty, stillness and perfection
from which you never wish to be freed.

That elusive, quiet fire burns on.