It was one of those nights…quite and very lonely.  But the loneliness wasn’t horrible.  Yes, she was lonely, but sitting there staring at the fire, she didn’t mind so much.  The solitude was actually kind of nice, hauntingly empty, but nice.   The fire flared and reached its heated fingers up towards the chimney, then fell dejectedly back down.  Ever rising, ever falling in it’s noisy little dance.  She let thoughts run effortlessly through her mind, so tired that her thoughts held no pattern, just a randomness that would be only understood by those who can understand dreams.  Her life roared to life and flickered sporadically in her mind keeping in tune with the fire casting its crazy shadows around the room.  She could feel the heat in her mind, feel it overwhelm and then numb.  She had the faint idea that at one time something important had mattered, but for now it didn’t. She scolded herself for allowing this weariness to overwhelm her, but she was to tired to fight.  And, so she continued staring at the fire and thinking, her mind a true reflection of the dancing flames.

Will joy rise again

Is there hope after the storm

What do storm clouds leave behind

What does the wind allow

Are the fields recovered

Can you see in the coming dawn

Is there anything left

Or has it all been blown away

What does the fog obscure

Is all crushed

Not a single stem to lift its beaten head

Are there flowers that will rise again

Has death descended

Forever to haunt

What has withstood

Was the field not ready

Were the crops to frail

Was the farmer’s hand not strong enough

But wait, there is a flower

Single, small, but standing

In the far corner

Just a little flower

Hope must come again

Because of that little flower

The flower flickers and sways

Is it a mirage

A taunting of the soul

Time will only tell

If there’s hope after the storm

I cannot tell

I can only wonder

Yes, I can only wonder