Phosphorus, or flint. Lighter Fluid, gasoline, alcohol; I don't care which.
I never knew how easy it would be to set it all on fire. I guess I packed it all with kindling. Grinding the lumber to saw dust, gives it that extra little explosion. Soaked in accelerant. It only took one spark to blow it all to hell.
Left to pick up the pieces again.
Alive again. The smoke; the chemicals. My head pounds with the heady fumes. Sickness; this was too easy. It burns to much to be a dream.
All my feelings burned away. The memory still hurts though. Blinded. Reeling.
I fall dead. I wither and crisp.
I rise; Pheonix. Another level transcendent. Another lesson to learn, until, I burn again.
Ignis Solus.
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