The divine invention of the human mind,
The element purest perceived by mortal kind,
Tamed to man’s liking- flickering at the tip of an oiled wick,
to a spot of light reduced- at a smokers fingertip.
Beware- it’s blazing rage, it’s wrath unseen,
could drown the best of the brave into a haunted sea;
of gruesome deaths, of bodies chipped, of withered lives,
of dreams that awaken slumbers as if stabbed with a thousand knives.
Fire is the first colour beyond the window of a working mind- illuminated; drunk on a thought brand new,
Fire is in the charred manuscript of a forbidden idea in the hands of timid mortals;
perceived way ahead of its time- written by a mighty few.
Fire is also the end of a brave genius at the stakes burnt,
for refusing to apologise for stating the truth through observation that he learnt.
Fire is in the hasty strokes of a poets quill, lest his words travel unheard, perched upon times soaring wing.
Fire is in the mocking slogan etched across the archway of a reigning king.
Fire is in the sacred anthem of a society behind veils, meeting in shadows for what they believe.
Fire is in breaking shackles, tied by tradition, failing to restrain a spirit impossible to cleave.
Fire is in the unshakeable will to try when the last breath in you has died,
to search within depths of a sunless sea for the hope to go on- for the popular belief you have defied.
Fire is in pursuit, fire is in passion, fire is in quenching relentless curiosity,
In the search for truth, in the belief in proof, in the decision to defy a wrong majority.