The Bonfire - Personal Writing

The Bonfire - Personal Writing

As I slowly walked to the end of my garden I could not help but

harbour an immense feeling of power. I was going to light the bonfire,

I was going to release the caged fury of the flames. I reached the end

of the garden, there it was, standing proud and majestically despite

the chains, for I had not yet lit the bonfire. Images of bonfires from

the past flashed through my mind, the flames as they liked the wood,

the hissing as the wood dried amidst the incredible heat of the fire.

I had to ask myself would this fire be the same as all the rest?

I knelt down at the base of the bonfire, and looked at the matches I

would use to light the fire, I was held in wonder as awe as I realized

that one tiny insignificant match could ignite such a roaring blaze. I

struck the match, the sudden burst of light startled me and I fell

backwards. I brought myself back to my feet and looked at the match,

to my shear horror the match had gone out! All that was left was the

smoke, rising up above my head, rising until it was gone, and I knew

that soon that would be gone to, every sign of the match's life gone,

like a soul rising to heaven and leaving its now cold lifeless body

resting in my hands. It had died before its time, departed this world

having no real purpose. Then it struck me, what if I was like that

match? What if I left this world having achieved nothing?

Determined I would not be like that match I bravely struck another,

this time the heat and light soothed and comforted me as opposed

startling me. I took the lighted match in my right hand. I moved my

arm slowly towards the base of the fire. The match then made contact

with the dry brown leaves, immediately they burst into flames, the

flames from the leaves stroking the wood. The wood soon caught the