This rough compass with a fireplace
is in my mind to make some space.
A fire that mostly burns in my sleep
in an obscure place that lies very deep.

I feel surrounded by an enormous heap
that without these flames becomes too steep
to master even with an Olympic leap.

Igniting tough debris that hinders
is helped by old persisting cinders.
Ashes and non flammables always remain;
all worth keeping I seem able to retain.

For a time there opens a way to go on
that I can rely at least a while upon.

Smoke from my mouth.