heat death & forged beginnings

this end did not start with the raging pyre that came but with the silence that rose before it, the calm before the storm that curdled all around, tense and strong like a string pulled tight, eager to strum, ready to break in two

the warmth rose in the air before the flames did, the searing, sweltering heat of something around the corner raging, reeling, fighting to get loose, to be wild and free, to be released from it all

and the sky was dark that day when the blackened smoke curled into the air and up to the very heavens; one could pinch the air years later and come away with ash between their fingers, rubbed grey and thin

fires may rage and roar, eating and destroying, devastating and ending all they consume, but the flames themselves lick and flicker, beam and glow, glide and dance, spinning and dipping in the dead of night, bringing light to the shadows, creating new life from the ashes

—

Don’t love this, but oh well—I wanted to write something for this challenge when I came across it yesterday! Is there anything more symbolically visceral than fire metaphors about endings and new beginnings? (Maybe water metaphors. I’m such a sucker for both.)

Thanks for reading!