There are no words
in some sequence,
no rhyme, meter;
there’s not any
particular
order in which
one could say it.  
I haven’t got
dictionary
entries, no words,
for this thing which
I cannot write,
can’t be writ of.
 
It is not a
feeling in some
way that can be
aligned how you’d
like. Look. I don’t
understand it
any better than
you might. And that’s
way worse for me,
because I went
and studied words.  
 
But listen here.
I could tell you
about fire, and,
how we cannot
make it how we 
want it to be.
It only is
how it is, and
no mistaking
what it might be.
 
How it burns and
heats metal and
stings and reminds
you of some things.
But those things are 
what you are, you 
made that part of it. 
You made it that. 
Nevermind that.

 
Or, I’ll tell you
of how you might
like fire. Might think
that she is real
pretty until
you’ve been burnt.
 
But fire would not
be anything
worth accounting
for in this. Hurts,
very badly.
Good and badly.
 
But you know what fire
is, of course you
do! Everyone’s
seen a fire. Fire
doesn’t describe
anything. In
My opinion,
Fire’s just fire, which
hasn’t always got
to be something
special, in all
cases of it.