Beautiful Destruction

There is something beautiful about fire. The way it moves, the way it dances against the black of a cold winter night. Its warmth flows into you, promising comfort, but ever warning you to keep your distance. Never too close, lest it prove you the fool... It is mesmerizing. It flows back and forth, dancing without a care in the world, swaying with the currents of destruction, each flame licking away one more bit of what once remained, painting it into the oblivion of its gentile caress. It glides across the wood, feeding, breathing, moving, living. It is alive. It is beautiful. Beautiful destruction.