Fingertips touching, never leaving, they dance.
Embers glowing, wind blowing, they move.
Hair whipping, voices crackling, they sing.
Fire curling, stars fading, they twirl.
Calling for the flames to grow…
Round the circle ringed with stones…
Towering bonfire casting shadows…shifting…
Faces alight, flickering rust and gold…features rearranging…
They are ancient. Forgotten. Lifeless.
They are born. Pulsing. Alive.
Continue reading at Lemon Shark Reef

