Tongue of Flame

The match burns. The small match restlessly draws its fiery being across the body of the firewood. The wood is wet persistent rain rain of the nights rain of the dense dark cloud has settled in it - the rain has soaked into its body - the match burns charred and black broken and bent it falls from the hand before cold feet into a bed of mud. There is lightning behind the cloud the lightning of a bright gaze the lightning of a burning gaze. Being flares up again the match burns turned toward the wood ...