STORY
Reading sparks that low-key fire inside,
lurking close—
its heat rises, we’re out and in,
fully faded, bliss, adrift, far from the world's haze.
When those yarns that stitched us solid
fray and snap, strand by strand,
page slammed, done, flat in the lap,
echoes die where the chatter banged,
and life's raw blaze roars back cold.