Transition

It was the fourth night. I built a fire by myself
A Celeste fire, for Celeste
Others welcome to gather
But they are not the purpose
Or the motivation
It is not for them.
I lay the fire in
When my eyes have the sun's help
In the afternoon
Hoeing dirt
Gathering wood
With bare hands
But this night, the fourth night
It was as always
The fire does not take on right away
It requires coaxing, vexing,
It has burned up a lot of sticks
Still not a fire
Just a pile of burning sticks
At some point magic makes it a fire
With a life of its own
This night, the fourth night
I entered the door and became witness
To that moment.
I saw a pile of burning sticks
Become a fire
I am so glad
I did this
I witnessed this change
In the nature of things
In a moment
That lasts forever
Annihilation
This change
Is worth worshipping
Like the position of Leyla's fingers
Each decision
I want to relive
This moment when the fire was born
Forever the pleasure
The fire dies, too.