Final relapses

Staying up all night
Watching the camp fire trying to survive,
I see the little passion
it desires to live.

In a huge flame,
into a tiny pebble-like desires,
I watch myself
as it carries me to sleep.

And as if the fire was the fairy dust,
it follows me throughout.
Wondering for something that it has missed,
wishing to catch the remaining debris
of the forgotten dream
that casted on fire.

The path goes and goes,
in circles,
from outside
to inside.
Outlining the layers of my
eyes
now drifting its sight
towards the flame.

From the flames
back to the fire,
the remaining woods
that fuel the fire
burns down
as it reflects its final form
into my eyes.