Got a Light?

Against the flint I flick the gray steel wheel

Then sparks fly out and on the wick they land.

Before my eyes a light dances with zeal.

The flame erupts so cleanly in my hand.

The tongue of fire then snorts and stands up tall.

Heat radiates, warming up my face.

I stare down at the flame. I am enthralled,

In wonder that combustion has such grace.

In the darkness fire is the only light.

It casts out Satan's dark to where it fades.

It burns so self-assured, showing its might

The amazing power of the flame I made.

Then, as if possessed, I flick my wrist.

The Zippo's closed. The flame does not exist.