Philosophie was a fire

Raging through your existence

That you could not put out on your own

But then came the salt

The white dust in the grass

Along the freeway

The bleak winter wash

A flutter of the heart

When the music asked to dance

But you sat and stared forward

A deer in the headlights

The windshield smothered you

In stillness

The silence of an ember gently dying

Deep in the back of your mind

That you could not spark on your own

And so you waited for the forest

To grow its branches like tentacles

In the recesses of your brain

Pining for the fire

Come alive again

A near death experience