Oh, Little Flame

Oh, Little flame, you bring a glow that is so useful you know. By your light, I can read and write — not much warmth, but that’s alright. Be careful now, one little blow or breeze, and you’re gone — diseased. Oh, fire contained, how useful you are — the light, the warmth! For by your light, not only can I read and write, but warm myself, dry my clothes, and cook! Be careful now, only one bucket of water will turn you to soot. Oh fire ablaze, who cannot contain. How you rage! Nothing can stand in your way. You are all consuming! No longer are you useful to read and write by your light. Everyone must be careful now, for it takes an army and hundreds of gallons of water to dampen your glow. Still, in your wake, from the ashes you make, life will grow and flourish again. With which flame do I most relate? The little flame. For I have not much more to give. With one blow — I’m gone. For that is the fragile life we live.