As Above So Bellowed

As above so bellowed
Stoking fires through our cold nights.
It saps away the entropy
Sensed as basic fears of something not being right.
No hermit is lonely, when huddled by the smoky coals,
Flickering lights emitted a sense of peace
Now obtained, as vibrating electric stripes.
Turned on and off with ease like our goals.
It's not at all permanent.
The soot cakes on and is washed away.
Cleanliness, convenience.
Or the old way’s firelight?
What makes for the good life.
Not fooled by any artifice.
A vital metric survives.
Ruled by metaphors for heat, lifting spirits high.
Toroid makes good fire, fire makes the Hermit bright.
Hitting the proverbial nail on the head.
Only possible in the bonfire's sight.
It was always so dark before we had those switches.
Human was still ape in that era.
Dozing by the riverside.
Testing the world by small bites.
Sinking our teeth into dead flesh, was a way to feel, alive.
Primal and raw until.
Fire gave us speech
as
“oww that hurts”
and “oooh nice”
“ Great power in those trees”
Playing with a splash of water
Gained understandings of the misty breeze.
Now we live without fire.
We all agree these are dark times.
The lack of consistency, a disease.
Reversion back to simple beasts.
The “I am me” and “My broken dreams.”
Seemingly losing our sparkling humanity.
While we stare at our starless night sky.
Light pollution they call it.
Safely smoke detectors and ceilings cover our eyes.
Woodgrain painted over.
To modernize these longing sighs.
Many people don't even remember the warmth that inspired what we call:
“Wise”