Dear Fire

Dear Fire,

You are powerful. I could see what looked like you burning up half of Herriman from my house. You blew lots of smoke my direction. My house smells like a campfire. My sinuses are burning and my eyes hurt. I don't know why I'm even considering running with all of the smoke you created in the air.

I see you and I see the power of God. I see that he is the creator of the universe and that we, his children, must rely on him for all we have and to safely escape the flames of life.

Your big flaming Herriman fire reminds me of a poem by William Blake:

THE TYGER

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

I know, its a strange poem, and could be perceived as dark, but I don't see it that way.

But fire, please stop blowing smoke into my house and sinuses.

Les