A breathing sphere of yellow and gold slowly slugs through the sky amidst a dark empty canvas. Dropping beneath the horizon line it spits its last bit of yellow and gold warmth before the moon chases it from the other side of the sky. The deep blue sky opens up to billions of bright stars twinkling over the farm fields and forests. Each barn and house, a small globe of warm illumination beneath the brilliant show of light above me. The fire beside me crackles and spits as if it is cheering on its brethren burning brightly in the sky. I imagine myself being the fire.
Like the fire, I am not shimmering in the sky. I am not seen by thousands of people every night, and I am not dancing around in the heavens. However, what a fire can do, is share its warmth with people who gather together.