People dance in the fire
As if they’re skipping over
Hot coals.
They flicker with the
Raging fire,
Dazzling with their stunning acrobatics,
Freezing us with their magic,
Like unearthly
Sprites.

People dance in the fire.
They tell a story:
Mine.
Of what was, and what is
And what has yet to come to pass.
If you look deep enough,
You will see your story,
Too.
Embedded in the dark spaces
Between the flickering
Orange lights.

People dance in the fire.
They tell of war and peace,
Hot coals changing to hills
Silhouetted by
Sunset.
The red fire, the amber sky
That sets over your beloved
Cities.

I like to think I see
People dance in the fire,
But they aren’t really people
At all.
No, they are heathen fae,
Spelling out world’s end.
They are the fae of the fire
And they tell the stories of your kind,
And they are coming
For you.