In some it is never lit,
straw and cinders smoking forever as they float through ghost-life,
they smother flames in fear,
and die from lack of heat.
In others it cattle herds them to destruction,
relentless in hunger,
it peruses them from one passion to another,
until their whole landscape is charcoal.
In few it creeps across dry ground,
slow and seemingly subdued,
but it drives them nonetheless,
to great heights as they escape the cinders,
to great works as they climb to false safety,
In the end the product is the same for all,
in the end the fire will consume them.
How to start a fire?
Are you sure you want to know?