He does not know

He does not know
He crouches by the flames with hope
That warmth might bar the way from fear
And yet the other people crowd
And far away the people jeer
He does not know
The man; now fear is pulsing
Like a drug within his veins
And the drive to live remains
(But what a life is left?)
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The Dance of Ash

Around a blazing fire
So spouting warmth and cheer,
With sparks to be admired
By all who gather near,
I am not often thinking of death.

And yet it too is there
Beneath the flame’s great might
The flecks of ash in air
Are dancing in the light
To live and die thus intertwined.

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