At a Campfire

Some days my monitor scarcely suffices for my lavish needs. On others, it's beyond me. I avert my eyes. Am I up to the task? The voice of exhaustion in friction, for the jagged wheels of my motor never halt. No more to give. But, the gluttonous fire within my workings begs for coal. For what would I be if the fire died? A cold cauldron?

Happy I am, for those of a correct upbringing, but ... can we ever be brothers?

Imploding. Self-loathing. Eroding. To what end?

Aren't you tired, fighting a foe who has yet to lose? "It is what it is," they say. "Just accept it," they say. And ... right they are. As crippling as lonesomeness is, it cloaks your sight in a shade of truth, which can settle you amiably. Much better than any distraction or untrue company could. In a way, loneliness ... is your friend. It doesn't lie to you, nor does it leave your side without someone else to accompany you.

If you lean into it, it will engulf you. I'm pacified ... and, for the first time in a long time, the wheels stop turning. Perhaps it is the sole purpose of their efforts–to run from my only true friend? Staring into the fire, I see myself. But a tiny, flickering light in a sea of darkness.

There is no harm in leisure fire management, or even ... a fire break? I'm tired. Tired of fighting the black Sea, the darkness which consumes my salty tears. Would the correct one, the sun gazer, understand such sentiment when he has yet to succumb? Is it correct of me to desire his understanding? To desire his brotherhood?

Perhaps it's the need to be seen in this pitch black void. How can I distinguish myself, if not through fire? Will you ever see me if I do not burn? (And shouldn't I ask myself the same?)

But how can you see if your eyes have yet to befriend the dark? Befriend they must, eventually. For just as the sun rises, so it sets. For you, it won't stop.

It's loneliness and me, waiting for you here. Our eyes work well in the dark, so we can guide you. It is good company. We do not ask for a pretentious bonfire. You may breathe at ease.

It must be so that we, too, are creatures of the dark. Finally, the consuming fire finds its end, and the black sea tends to your burns and blemishes. A little sting at first, but then ... it rejuvenates.

Close your eyes, for they need some darkness too.

Drifting away... together.