Poem -



The fire burns beneath me. I realize I'm a piece of paper held above a lighter. Meant to wither up and turn to ash. But I have always dreamed of being an airplane. Where I could be made into something unique and fly. Yet I am destined to turn black and shriveled near this torch. I wish for a gust of wind, if not to take me away to a better place at least put out the flame. Yet, nothing. But for some reason I am sure that for my ashes the wind will come to take me away. For only after I am nothing, am I to become something. Only after falling apart, am I able to go someplace different with my now less intrusive body. Parts of me shall travel to many places. But not all of me was meant to stay together. And that's when I realize...as the wind carries the pieces of me away, that as a whole I cannot survive. I cannot fly forever in one singular form. But in many....I am immortal. Bound to only the wind. I may not ever be in one piece again. But I will achieve my dream of being free...

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Simon Bromley

Such a wonderous and compelling write.  Well done