Inherent Sadness

The burning logs are wet with blackness, glistening as if drenched, almost but never ready to drip.

Then, in mere moments, they wither and dry, losing their sheen and the energy they had collected from the sun and the earth.

A gray cracking takes over that reduces the branches and limbs to brittle chalk. But not before they flare as embers, searing off their final glow together.