Have you noticed
the burning of a thing,
the destruction of it,
how it produces beauty?
Tongues of fire, luminous,
crackling, cackling, gleeful,
turning into shapeless ash
a thing with shape and form.
And smoke, its soul,
flowing out, spiralling up,
scattering its fragrance,
its every single memory.
Fire and smoke,
dance of the elements.
Ashes, the last remains.
Then, life begins anew.
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