Why Sit There

Stoke the embers
A gentle prod
breathe life into
that which the eye cannot see
its rich glow
promising you can withstand winter
just a while longer

a glint
dancing its sultry shimmy
prancing shivering
to a drum pounded in an invisible world
against the woods’ stern expression

the flame licks the timber
fanning a warmth
thought to be extinguished
sprockets of pyre
flap their wings
towards the star-filled canopy
raptured up in the hope
believed abdicated
when the kindling did but mutter
humble prayers
exalting the truth
that “we will not go quietly”

watch its
amber solar flare shine
defiant of the darkness
Live, O great phoenix
your midnights are soon at end
heartbreaks learn to mend
wishes can still be heard
when placed before the proper altar

what then?
what is your sacrifice?