Fire And Tea, Every Morning (Poem)

Fire is burning around me.

The air vanishes, consumed by smoke.

The very ground crumbles beneath the heat.

I sit calmly in the early hours,

Gazing into the morning mists.

I sip a cup of tea as I read Ha Jin.

Which of these is real?

Both. Neither. One. The other.

See what you want.

I will not choose for you.

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