Albeit our longings start as a spark-
one that burns and ignites a wildfire or gas fires.
Air moves to kindle the flame and
that’s how faith fuels the chase-
the hunt for the substance of our dreams.
Time, as it is, will never be enemies of us
And neither will it be our ally
In a short while, the stick will burn out.
The grey signal of its end rises up
like incense and as high as it can go.
The joys and the pain of our fight
we’ll and must partake till it finds its
stop – when we burn out.
Light as many fires as you can;
YOLO, don’t miss out on what you
ought to and was meant to do-