A fire doesn’t ask permission to burn. It ignites without hesitation. A spark can eat the entire thicket. It’ll burn so loudly that you swear you taste coal. I wish I could move as freely as a tempted flame. I’d burn everything I hate and no one would blame me. They point to whoever strikes the match, never the actual fire. It gets to burn heavily. It gets to turn into something unrecognizable. It’s get to shape shift anything in its path into a smoldering mess. I think of words catching behind my teeth. Or how I feel small in the vastness of this place. And as fear wells in my throat and hitches my breathing- I remember how fire doesn’t ask permission to burn. -AMT ©️