As I listen to the footsteps die off into the distance,
I hear nothing more than the sounds of the fire.
The flames flicker about as if preparing for a sacrifice.
They dance amongst each other, intertwined yet somehow completely
isolated.
The stones sit, undisturbed, while the ash blows to escape the weeping, pained
wood.
Yet as I sit alone in the center of this sea of trees, I can hear something
crying.
As if merely contradicting myself, I squint as I gaze around me.
At first, all I see is darkness, but as a curtain on a stage, my eyes begin
to focus,
I can see who is shedding these tears.
It is the furs, spruces, and pines who are trembling with fear.
They reach to move, only finding they are rooted to the ground, unable to
escape.
Almost as if I felt their pain,
I secretly swore to them that I shall protect them from the fire,
I will guard them from the flames,
I might save their helpless souls from burning,
For I know that I am the single being standing between these ancient figures
and the bloodthirsty flames.
It is the trees who remind me of my merit, whispering that I will keep them
safe from danger.
I have the strength to do whatever it takes to keep others out of harm's
way.
For it is the fire that threatens the innocent,
And it is the fire that thrives off the helpless.
Yet I know that it is I who help the unprotected,
And I learn these lessons in some of the most unexpected places,
But still from those that I love,
Those that whisper in my ear and tell me that I really do have worth.