Wildfire
Racing over beheaded stalks of wheat

There is not much nourishment
In stubble

Faster and faster
She races desperate to keep the flames going
Desperate to keep control

So, so scared that once the flames run out
There will be nothingness

And out of the nothing a shape will form
A shape so terrifying
So horrendous
So frightening
The only thing her rage will not burn

Out of the nothingness
Will rise
A mirror