Around the coals decayed
To black, a circle
Of rocks savors
What warmth remains,
What light tests the dark.
The once roaring fire
That charred their rocky sides,
Now a shivering tongue
Coiled in ash.
A faint glow kindles
Off the wind’s whispers.
For a breath
The stony guards smile orange
And their shadows stretch far, far away.
Then crack. Then sizzle.
Then nothing more.
All nights demand
The dark.
He Who Wanders 