Fire Riddle

A fire is quick to burn if we're not careful. A fire is quick 
to snuff out in wind. A fire is what we're told to keep
under guard, dragon asleep in the center of the gut. 
And what is the self if not a pail of glowing embers
we're meant to carry through violent births in spring
and the somnolences of winter? Its wire handle glows 
hot as a brand on naked skin, or rigid as unmalleable 
cold. One freezing night in January, we turned
the oven on, pretending it would keep our bones 
from hardening. The moon burned its own passage
through the dark: familiar as a brand, remote 
as a lighthouse beam, but strangely comforting. 
Whatever we doubt of own capacities, we understand 
the cost of living is many different kinds of burning.