Dancing Fire

There’s a mystical sort of place out there,
Where the North Wind always blows,
The presence of winter hangs on the air,
And a forest of creaking pines grows,

They say that fire dances across the sky,
So many vivid colors for one and all to see,
Beautiful enough that it seems a lie,
Shimmering lights that conceal a mystery,

Crimson reds and velvet blues,
Blazing golds and forest greens,
Curtains of radiant and dancing hues,
So high up above the evergreens,

There’s this place beyond all your dreams,
Where the heavens alight with dancing flame,
A land of rugged rocks and babbling streams,
Where magic is still real and not just a claim.

BY Hegemony

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