To End My Winter

I am a mountain of arid timber,
with kindling that fills my every fissure,
surrounded by forests full of tinder.
A potential pyre, impossible to hinder,
that would burn with more than ample vigor
to leave the entire world a cinder.
And all I need to end my winter
is just one spark to light one splinter.
But without that spark I will not differ,
will not consume the forest that is hither.
I will merely decay without a whisper,
fated to forever wither.

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