Fire

He was riveted by the fire, by its glory, as it grew hotter and higher. Its tendrils leapt into the ebony sky, a sprite, joyfully frolicking in the primal dance that is Life. That never-ending song, Life, an epic in verse, laughter and tears. Through the orange and red flame windows, he watched the march of Time. It paraded by, as if in an eternal loop. But no! He looked more closely: always there were differences, sometimes subtle, sometimes large. Calm infused his being. Smiling, he embraced the moment, then gave a soaring pirouette into the heart of the fire.