Campfire
A Dance Between Air, Flame, and Life
This is a repost of a poem published on December 13th, 2024. I'm reposting it because it's one of my favorites and it's constantly on my mind.
Like bodies swinging
and making love to the sound of music,
the flames swayed gently,
as if fused with the whispering air,
and you noticed
the only way you can see the wind
is when it reveals its presence
softly brushing against your skin
or in the canopy of a tree,
sweeping across the ground,
shaking the surface of the water,
or when it joins the fire,
dancing like two fused bodies,
and the flames that the fire gives birth to
are very similar
to the breath of the human body on a cold day,
when you can contemplate the magic
that unites your exhale
with the air in the atmosphere,
thus revealing the image of your soul
thrown like a cloud into the world
and drifting away in a soft farewell
and suddenly, traveling through the galaxy,
divided into little molecules,
and you realize that
the fire and the tip of your pen,
are both similar to the breath
that comes out of you when you breathe
in screams of revolt against death,
like a proof that you belong
to something greater than you,
and that one day,
you'll just be a handful of small molecules
that feeds the flame of another campfire
when your last breath announces
that it’s time to return to the cosmos
© Rolando Andrade, 2024
“…and you realize that
the fire and the tip of your pen,
are both similar to the breath
that comes out of you..”
this phrase really got me. Magnificent piece Rolando.💙
I'm glad Rolando reposted this fine reflection on mortality and what occurs beyond our brief time here. When I first read it, I was totally stuck by the calm, transcendent nature of the last twelve lines, and I still am.
"and you realize that
the fire and the tip of your pen,
are both similar to the breath
that comes out of you when you breathe
in screams of revolt against death,
like a proof that you belong
to something greater than you,
and that one day,
you'll just be a handful of small molecules
that feeds the flame of another campfire
when your last breath announces
that it’s time to return to the cosmos."