Dusk falls. I walk down the path. Looking up at the first stars. I turn, look across the woods to see fog hovering like an apparition. The embodiment of water coming off heat from the last days of summer. The particles condense, preparing for the ritual of morning dew. I take a deep breath of the damp air. So cool at night. Oppressive by day. Expanding with the heat, I’m drinking water with my lungs. Sultry and steamy.

And with the rise and fall of water with the heat of the sun and the dark of night, my breathing mirrors the natural laws of Fire & Ice. Each inhalation expands the lungs, feeding the blood with air. Each exhalation condenses, releasing the air we don’t need. In. Out. 

Earth cycles us through Fire & Ice each year, life germinates, blossoms, and throws wild colors to the wind. Then cools, contracts, sending life into the comforting beds of the forest floor, the fields, and the sandy shores. Only to burst into life again and again.

And I wonder as I walk along, looking at the stars like points of winking mist in the sky, how the cycles of Fire & Ice persist on each planet, in relation to the sun, pointing to the multitudes. I drink the air in, release; looking forward to dreams and rest, looking forward to long nights and candle light.