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