Bridges

Flame kisses the night sky alight,
Bright and warm against the black.
The wood at first resists,
Firmly defiant of the heat,
Praying for the strength to hold on.

But there is a freedom to letting go,
A sigh of relief in defeat,
In letting the fire take what is his,
In watching the path burn
Never to be walked again.

And I would light the match again,
Time after time, over and over,
Just to watch the flame climb,
Just to see the ash of what once was…
To see what rises in its wake.