Where is beauty in fire?
Where is beauty in destruction?
Where is beauty in all of life's dissipation?
Is it the peace it offers?
Is it the rest after pain?
Is it the light that it produces in times that we burn?
Right now it remains a question.
I know that ice cannot be compared to fire.
I know that ice cannot be better than inferno.
I know that, somewhere along the lines, ice cannot be the right choice.