My first here, untitled as yet

[Argenta]

I felt the fire,
me, it burned
it seared
it called
and it surged
it flamed
it teased
I felt it, myself

It was there, as I

I felt the fire, me,
in my breast
in my pit
in my arms
and in my eyes
in my knees,
in myself,
I felt it, myself

And I let it die, me

I did not tend it
I did not feed it
I did not smoor it
I turned it, me,
Into ashes
into cold
into stone
and into rock

I did it, myself

There is no fire
no heat
no passion
no life
Just rock,
just stone,
just ash
burning my throat

[seabhac star]

Helo Argenta. Your poem is beautiful and sad. Thank you for sharing it. I hope that one might draw near to the fire of another who is burning bright so as to re-ignite their own flame.

[Argenta]

Helo Argenta. Your poem is beautiful and sad. Thank you for sharing it. I hope that one might draw near to the fire of another who is burning bright so as to re-ignite their own flame.

Thank you for commenting, seabhac star.
I must admit that I am, at the moment, very disillusioned as to the dependance on others for (re-)igniting any kind of flame.
It is a painful process, but I am learning how to depend on myself for that.

[MeadowLark]

Wow. Very nice poem. I love the use of fire in it; very powerful. I also love the way you take responsibility in the poem, putting yourself at the wheel. Almost like an awakening. It's lovely. I have been through some difficult things with myself over the past few years, and now I feel I am finally able to begin to rebuild my "fire". I can very much relate to this.

Thank you for sharing!

I hope you are well.

Alicia