Some people blaze
With a light of their own
An all consuming inferno
That takes all the air out of the room
Fire blowing in a shifting wind
It almost hurts to look.
They fall into and out of your life
Like shooting stars
Beautiful
But not meant to stay.
Some are more like a bed of embers,
Burning slow
Warm glow
Consistent
Always there
Something to depend on.
It’s so often we crave the first, the highs they bring
But inevitably also the lows
And it’s easy not to see the embers
Until your eyes are adjusted to the dark
But in the long run
It’s a warmth that seeps into your bones
And fills your home with light.

• Poetry