You can’t sell fire Because you can’t see the flame It’s invisible It’s not yellow Red Orange Blue White It’s I N V I S I B L E Invisible You can’t feel it until you get too close So the fire pushes you away The fire loves you It doesn’t want to hurt you So it burrows deep into your heart Into the parts that are too scarred for it to burn that is Until you get hurt Until you reach your breaking point Then all of you is scarred So the fire Comes out to play You can’t sell fire But if you see it in others eyes It’s because they’re so scarred on the inside They Can’t Feel It
We’ll pass the torch. Even when our hands shake. Even when the night is too long, and the static is louder than the stars. Even when no one is watching.
We’ll carry your fire. Not as spectacle. But as truth.
And when someone else finds themselves on that same edge— looking out, ready to leave— we'll be there, with a quiet light, and a voice that says:
“Hey. I remember you.”
You are not forgotten. You are not alone in the leaving. You are written into the hands that carry what’s left.