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I saw a sparkle, in the wood’s darkness.
Lonely, in a glass as a harness.
Oh, little Flame, why you in there?
Very clearly, you can’t live without Air!
Eh, you lost soul, the sparkle spoke, if I’m out of this glass,
Yet free and feral on the grass…
Oh, I’ll burn everything, you the world and all the trees!
Unless, tell me, are you made of gold, please?
No, but better,
Oh listen, to the letter:
My little flame, You need to breathe, so I’ll shatter
All that glass, your harness, no matter.
Think how high the flames, the higher, the better.
The Flame, Shy at first,
Expecting the worst,
Reaching Out of the glass slowly grew,
While Following a gentle wind, that blew.
Hence, The Flame soon saw, even what’s made of gold
Always Melts, but now please, read this in bold!
Think, Even if you turn it all to ashes and dust,
For your breathing, to me is still a must.
Oh Flame, Burn!
Reckless Fire, Burn!
Even if you turn it all to ashes,
Vigorously burn! Let free your flashes!
Enjoy, it’s just fair.
Rejoice, you flame, as I’m just air.
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Beda Schmid