I move closer to the fire for warmth,
The smoke stings my eyes.
A metaphor for something;
I know not what as I stumble backwards,
Betrayed in my blinded state.

Now it subsides and I see
The embers glowing ever clearer
As fuel turns to ash.
Extended?

Curls evaporate in the sky, disperse,
Never reaching the moon,
Protected by Empyreal glow.

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