Fire isn't just a force of nature that destroys everything in its path. It's a metaphor for passion, purification, and sudden and irreversible end. In these poems, I've attempted to explore the various facets of fire: from everyday tragedy to cosmic cataclysm, from personal drama to universal chaos. There's no moral here, only an attempt to understand what remains after everything burns. And perhaps to see the seeds of new life in these ashes.
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First smoke
In anticipation of disaster, like a quiet sigh, smoke rises above the rooftops. It is like a ghost, ghostly and silent, knowing neither joy nor dreams. And the sun, barely shining through it, reminds of past warmth. The whole earth stands frozen in silence, anticipating its own impending disaster.
Crimson gleam
A strange light dances in the window across the street, a crimson reflection trembling on the wall. And it seems as if time is gone, as if the past is forever asleep. In the distance, a desperate cry for help, and the smell of burning, acrid and thick. Everything crumbles, losing its strength, under the onslaught of the fiery elements. And only the ashes, slowly swirling, remind us of the former beauty of the fields. In silent grief, quietly regretting, what was, and what is now gone.
Autumn fire
In the fallen garden, in the golden silence, a flame suddenly flared up, furious and angry. And the leaves, like butterflies, swirl, in a fiery embrace, with a furious fate. The trees groan, their branches stretch upward, as if begging the heavens for mercy. But the flame only grows stronger, only waving, devouring everything, giving no miracles. And the ashes fell to the ground like a shroud, a reminder of the end of everything. Autumn fire is a sad deception, that life is but a short film. But even in the ashes one can find sprouts of hope, subtle and living. And faith that there will be grace, when completely different days arrive.
Sparks in the night
Like stars, sparks burn in the night, But this is not the wondrous light of heaven. They are harbingers of coming troubles, Their dance is full of bitterness and misery. In the silence of the night, like a quiet moan, Fire crackles, devouring everything around. And it seems that the world has long been broken, And there is no salvation for it, not a sound. And only the wind, free and wild, Carries the sparks to distant lands. A reminder of earthly fate, Which is so short-lived and empty.
The smell of burning
Heavy smoke hangs in the air, And the smell of burning, bitter and simple. It penetrates the soul like a scream, Reminding of human fate. Memories surface of faces, And voices that can no longer be heard. Everything is crumbling, losing its boundaries, And it is no longer possible to fix it. And only the ashes, like a silent guardian, Keep within themselves the history of loss. About how life passes like a mirage, And how easily it can be dispelled on this day.
Fire Beast
Fire is like a beast, untamed and wild, It dances in rage, knowing no mercy. In its embrace, all that is great perishes, And turns to ashes and dust, like rewards. It devours forests, fields, and cities, Leaving only emptiness in its wake. And it seems there is no barrier to it, That it controls the world and its destiny. But even a beast will eventually fall asleep, And the flame will subside, like a quiet sigh. And from the ashes, life will rise again, Hope will be reborn, like a new breath.
Red sunset
A red sunset, like an omen, reminds us of the end of time. And the flame in the sky, like a spell, calls to God, in silence, without walls. Everything freezes, waiting for a miracle, but the miracle never comes, as always. And only ashes, slowly and poorly, swirl in a dance, in the gloom, without a trace. And it seems that the world is doomed to destruction, that there is no escape from the fiery disaster. But even in this dark and ominous force, there is beauty that touches the depths of the soul.
Ashes and silence
In place of the flame, there's only gray ash, And a silence that weighs on the temples. Everything is destroyed, and the world is now empty, And there's no solace to be found in this melancholy. Memories are like a ghostly fog, Shadows of the past wander through them, alas. And it seems that life is but a deception, That all that was is but empty dreams. But even in the ashes you can find Sprouts of hope, subtle, living. And faith that there will be grace, When completely different days arrive.
Fire Waltz
Fire dances a waltz in the stillness of the night, scorching everything around with its flames. And the sparks, like stars, are beautiful in its mad, passionate, wild circle. It whirls in a whirlwind like a demon from hell, devouring everything that gets in its way. And it seems there is no joy for it, that it is doomed only to suffer. But even the dance of death has its beauty, its movements – strength and impetus. And in this fiery waltz, as in heaven, pain and screams are forgotten.
The last spark
In a dying fire, like a quiet moan, a spark flickers, weak, alone. It is the last hope, like a dream, that life is not yet buried. And the wind blows, extinguishing its gust, But the spark still holds on, alive. Reminding of love and of the call, That one must always believe. And even when everything around burns, And ashes cover the earth like a shroud, This spark in the heart will live, Reminding of the past, like a talisman.
Crimson Sails
A glow burns on the horizon, Crimson sails float in flames. And it seems the whole world is speaking, That change is coming. In the distance, a desperate cry for help, And the smell of burning, acrid and thick. Everything is crumbling, losing its strength, Under the onslaught of the fiery elements. But even in this chaos and pain, There is beauty that touches one to tears. And faith that everything will be worthwhile, When a new day dawns, without dreams.
Shadow on the wall
A flame's shadow dances on the wall, like a silent ghost from the past. It reminds us of suffering, of how life is sometimes but a brief dream. And the flame greedily devours everything, leaving behind only emptiness. And it seems there's no stopping it, that it controls the world and its fate. But even the shadow will one day disappear, and the flame will die down like a quiet sigh. And from the ashes, life will rise again, and hope will be reborn like a new breath.
Fire River
A fiery river flows in the night, its waves scorching everything around. And sparks, like stars, are hot, in its mad, passionate, wild circle. It brings with it destruction, and pain, and fear, and despair, and anger. And it seems that there is no salvation, that it is doomed only for this day. But even in this river of fiery passion, there is beauty that touches one to tears. And faith that all will be in power, when a new day dawns, without dreams.
Smoke over the city
Gray smoke billows over the city, a reminder of impending disaster. And the sun, barely visible through it, reminds us of its former beauty. Sirens and screams can be heard in the distance, and the smell of burning, acrid and thick. Everything is crumbling, losing its appearance, under the onslaught of the fiery elements. But even in this chaos and pain, there is hope for salvation, for light. And faith that everything will be worthwhile, when a new day dawns, free from troubles.
Song of Flame
The flame sings its sad song, about how life passes like a dream. About how everything changes everywhere, and how easily everything is reduced to dust, to nothing. In its melody one can hear despair, and pain, and fear, and loneliness, and sadness. And it seems that it does not understand that it is doomed only to this turbidity. But even this song has its beauty, in its sound – strength and impulse. And in this fiery dance, as in the heavens, pain and screams are forgotten.