The Burn Poem by Ronald Shields

Fire in the incinerator burns
hot -hotter than poison
that melts your soul,
leaving behind a gleaming
white skeleton.

The flames don't really know
anything about convection, or
kelvin, or thermodynamics.
Flame is just a brute fact, like
entropy or absolute zero.

Heat is the brain of a fire.
Heat can tell you things
the flames never dreamed of.
It's heat that rivets attention.
It is heat that opens your eyes.

Heat will burn holes and
smooth imperfections.
Heat teaches what you
need to know. It will
draw you in by degrees.

Fire lights up the corners.
Flames shout for attention.
They are only messengers.
It is heat that consumes
It is heat that says I love you.