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As I look at the logs
Waiting for their turn in the fire
I see the journey they have taken to arrive here
I feel this strange sense of connection to it
The hard work that went into getting them here
And now they repay me with the warmth I was craving
Hopefully in their own sense of the word
They are fulfilling their destiny, like I am
Intertwined the both of us
Our story, without the bells and whistles, echoing in eternity
It can all be in my imagination as well
Who has the wisdom to tell?
That the trees who fell
Are spending rest of their lives in hell?