Strike None

I am in a community and we are all equal,
heads rule us, hands wield our potential,
our bodies hold fuel, to sustain our efforts.
I’m just as perfect but lie untouched.

I’m lost in a forest, looking for a flint,
a perfect strike, with room to produce,
from cigarettes to cannons and fireworks to thunder
to fires for food, for warmth, I’m here.

My hobby is sleeping,
pyromania is my weakness. I want to
grow tall and shine with intensity,
blazing in my moment of glory.