12/19/2025
Feeling poetic this morning.
Pitch dark.
Pitch dark pierced by the soft glow of fire. Fire, so wreckless and frightening, safely confined to a small box.
Fire tamed and contained behind a quaint viewing window placed conveniently for your own cathertic pleasures.
Fire so powerful, but harnessed in a way that is represents peace, safety, and shelter.
The subtle warmth to combat the enveloping wilderness just outside the thin shield of canvas. Tiny threads of cotton that form a frail boundary between safety and the danger of nature's fierce elements.
This fire means home.
Home in a place marked by a deafening cacophony of foreign sounds. The soft crackling of the fire plays rythm section to a melody of crickets, owls, coyotes, and wind dangerously surging through the trees tops above.
In this moment the fire feels close, the fire feels safe, the fire feels like victory over a beautiful and awe inspiring hostile environment.
This fire means home.
This is where I long to be.
