Not So Much
Fire burning around,
My comfort ablaze, hopes charring down and falling black,
I came out of the fire,
Yes, a little burnt, but not so much.
That was a long, monstrous, and horrifying fire,
When I was within it.
It reached beyond the distance that my eyes could map,
But when I see it from here,
Is it still so big? Not so much.
This place, I call here, is warm,
Warm from that horrifying fire,
Warm enough to keep my muscles working on those cold shivery nights of uncertainty, self doubt and loath.
Nights of uncertainty when even anything could happen and everything would not happen.
Nights of self doubt when the average was a line, as far as the Pluto, so far that I would never meet it.
Nights of loath when a cut in my finger cut open deeper wounds of the heart.
Warm enough to glow on my face,
And penetrate the skin,
To travel to the brain,
To tell the brain,
That fire did burn me, but not so much.