Too Thin

I see your ember devouring the void, brittle flames thrashing in the black— a thing of hunger, of flickering edges, too thin to hold the weight of your fire. I watch as your heat distorts the air, turning breath into a shimmer of ruin. You are light, you are rage— a blaze that burns but cannot warm. I stand, still, in the shadows you carve, helpless against the conflagration. You flare against the far horizon— I see, but my hands will never reach.