The mirth of fire

Photo: Colyn/colynwyn

Do you like campfires? I love campfires. But I had very, very, few of them and long, long, time ago. I heard people sing and dance around campfires; oh, what a waste. Campfires are hypnotic. After a while, the chitter-chatter starts to fade, and even the world beyond the glow starts to melt. Suddenly you find yourself sucked into the mild crackling of the logs, the faint bitterness of the smoke, the merry dancing of the flames, and the magic of firefly sparks.

On the odd occasions when the breeze whiffs some smoke into your eyes and you have this sudden, short, mildly irritating sensation; you lie down closing your eyes to ease it away. Instead, you keep drowning in this dazed state where you don’t quite feel sleepy but are absolutely reluctant to open your eyes and return to total awakening. Moments later you start to have visions of the flames, those dancing flames.

They dance with the eloquent grace of ballet, they dance with the ravishing intoxication of tango. They dance and dance, and with their every twirl and swirl they change shapes. An eagle takes wing, then a bowman twangs his arrow, then a dragon roars in silence, then an elf draws his blade, then a unicorn canters out, then a maiden saunters away. An endless procession of untold and unknown stories played out in the kaleidoscope of colors! The unimaginable, out-of-the-world colors! Brazen gold and heavenly purple, unicorn-white and luminous green!

But do you know what I love most about campfires? Those glowing embers, you know, when the flames have mostly died down. They glow in their soft, cold aura, they glow in their ember-red, and they glow holding your hypnotized gaze. They glow and dim, glow and dim with every whiff of breeze and if you let your imagination run wild, it will seem like some coded language. It seems so cryptic and yet you feel it sounds familiar. In the maddening, mesmerized vain, you keep gazing at them; until you fall asleep.

Like I said, I had very few campfires; so all these are probably my imaginations.

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