Sitting at a campfire

Slowly the fire dies

Slowly the fire dies

The last flame, the last sparkle

It is all gone

Even the last laugh

No more gathering around the fire

No more wood to feed the fire

No reason to lit the fire

As all fires do,

It started, it spread and it slowly died

It all was

And that is ok

What remains are the ashes

Ready to be washed away

By the next rain

Feeding the land

Feeding the woods

Feeding next fires

Rien van Leeuwen, Nijmegen, 1 Juni 2011

Dit schreef ik tijdens de health certification training in Nijmegen.

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