A crackling bonfire,
devotes all of its passion
to what its given,
until it’s reduced to glowing cinders.
You can’t help but look
on those ruby embers,
and wonder if you’re playing God
by letting your cup runneth over them
before you go to bed.
You brought them into this world
and now you’re taking them out
while they still have so much light left.
Does the Sun feel guilty,
in the slightest,
for leaving you in the dark
every night?
You can’t help but ask,
“am I the smoke, or am I the ash?”
It dawns on you, then,
while waiting for the sunset
that you never see “the end.”
That you’re not spent
day-after-day,
week-after-week.
While waiting for the next “good morning”
you’re thankful that the sun,
cares enough
to give you time and space
to rest.
The File Pile 