I built a fire and enjoyed its glow one spring evening.
The coals, bright and red, mesmerized me in the dusk.
After a while, I replenished the fire with a fresh log,
Which caught quickly and augmented the flame.
Twice I refueled, giving me an abundance of reflection time.

I observed the logs being consumed,
And I pondered how life is similar.
We are consumed, like a log,
To provide what is needed in this world.
We go to work each day,
And we are consumed.
We provide for our family,
And we are consumed.
We meet needs of others,
And we are consumed.

We are different from logs, however.
Unlike a log, we regenerate,
Preparing to be consumed the next day
For the betterment of society,
For ourselves,
For our family,
And for our business.

Yet every day, a small amount of us is permanently consumed,
Not to be replaced,
Until finally, after many years,
There remains nothing left to burn.

Hopefully, there remains in us enough life to enjoy.
If not, we simply fade into ashes like the finally-consumed log.

Litter

Beside the road on my morning walk,
Continuous litter polluted the view.
I felt dirty, though I touched it not,
Nor had I put it there myself.

I wondered why travelers in cars
Would think it permissible to throw their garbage
Out the window and on the ground,
Either to be collected by others,
Or more likely to remain there until it disintegrated
Years from now – or possibly never.

I later reflected on the litter in my life,
The things that leave me trashy, polluted, and unclean.
Some things I have left there on my own,
Discarded objects I hoped would dissolve,
But most likely merely to fester,
Their stench never quite going away.

Others have also littered my life,
Depositing their waste my way,
Things they had no desire to dispose of themselves,
Making me their polluted roadside.

Some people have difficulties dealing with litter.
They struggle to deal with what they have placed laid there themselves.
Dealing with what others have deposited can be a challenge as well,
Wrestling with memories, hurting words, feelings, and real pains.
Yet for our own peace, our own cleanness,
We must pick up the litter we can
And dispose of it in the right way.