“F” is for Fire
My eyes are transfixed on the yellows, reds and oranges that paint their warm strokes against the black sky. I continue to watch as the brilliant flames dance and twirl like swifter swaying seaweed in the sea. It’s as if these brilliant colors are alive and quickly moving away from the crackling coals. It breathes in its surroundings commanding attention from everyone around, and we all give in to the authority of the blaze.
I see that same power of the sun rippling up through the branches we took from the trees. An immense heat radiates from the burning embers, and smoke billows from the dried logs into powerfully rising clouds. We look around to each of us standing with extended arms over the rising flames and, without saying a word, we acknowledge our sense of partial control over Mother Nature.
We conquered the night with flames and let the fire feed off of the air surrounding it, and watched on as it eventually died. For a moment, we fed off of the warm light in the dark. We felt safe standing next to the most dangerous force in our immediate facility.
We cooked our meals, burned our desserts and starved off the frigid temperatures of the night. And all while we sat by and watched the flames burn the timber. The force of fire illuminated our lives that night, but just as quickly as it started, the inferno eventually stopped, and we went to bed dreaming of the commanding energy dancing into the dark.