The Flame...

Fire, the ancient breath of the earth, dances with a passion that consumes the night. It is a flickering poet, tracing verses in the dark, its every flame a stanza of desire and destruction. Fire whispers secrets in crackling tongues, telling tales of birth and rebirth, of worlds turned to ash and dreams ignited anew. It is a paradox of warmth and danger, a beacon in the cold yet a reminder of nature’s fierce will.

In its heart, fire holds the memory of the sun, a distant echo of creation's first light. It is a wild symphony of color—gold, amber, and crimson—painting the night sky with its restless energy. Fire is both creator and destroyer, an artist sculpting with heat, transforming the mundane into the sublime, and the tangible into smoke.

It roars with a primal hunger, yet in its quiet moments, it hums a lullaby to the weary soul. Fire is alive, ever-changing, never still, a restless spirit that refuses to be tamed. It is a force that both warms the hearth and razes the forest, a reminder of the delicate balance we walk between control and chaos.

To gaze into fire is to see eternity in a moment—a glimpse of the universe’s passion, an understanding that all things must burn to be reborn. Fire is the keeper of life's eternal cycle, a fiery phoenix that rises and falls, only to rise again, brighter and bolder than before.

-By anonymous, Class 11