Static Friction

The moonless night is further shrouded in fog and smoke,
Each are sporadically illuminated by the light of the flames,
As the fire grow, higher and faster, hotter and stronger,
I stumble blind, helpless, and petrified, eyes stinging, throat burning,
Through the trees and brush, rocks and rivers, over well worn paths and bridges,
What was once peaceful is chaos, that which was safe now terrifies, the flames change all,
And yet I remain,
As the forest burns the flames reflect on the surface of my eyes,
And on my tears as they fall to the ground,
Preserving that on which the land but a moment longer before it too is consumed,
As it burns it becomes something terrible, something horrifyingly unfamiliar,
But it also brings new life, a fact which rises through my consciousness,
But is stopped by my fear like a chain around the neck of an angry dog,
A chain that is tied down to the anchor of the past,
To the sum of those moments when it was as it was,
And to the meaning it was thusly given and to the pleasure that meaning brought,
The anchor holds back hope, and life, and happiness, and everything that will be,
In favor of danger and dread, fear and uncertainty, hatred and anxiety,
But it holds me down, my feet firmly planted as the fire rages closer,
Searing my skin and burning my hair and clothes as it approaches, leaping from tree to tree,
My life, laid bare, crackles and burns, crumbles and collapses before me,
There is nothing to be done,
So with a sigh the chain breaks, and I step back before turning and walking away,
The fire will sink low and disappear and so will my memory of that place,
And in the weeks, months, and years that come, as it fades from my mind,
I will think less and less of it and someday when I have let myself forget,
I will remember again,
And I will journey again back to that strange but familiar landscape,
And it will be full of life and love, vitality and strength,
And I will live there and thrive there once more.

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