Close to the tea of life, the steam is most visible.

Youthful. 

At its most vibrant 

And at its most violent.

The heat is overwhelming, scorching. Unbearable and undeniable. 

The steam begins to rise. It expands. Unstoppable.

Growing

It thinks it's flourishing.

But little does it know, it's actually perishing.

Rising faster and faster, seeking naively a glory it cannot see.

The steam is at its highest, however not yet free.

Fading.

On its journey to oblivion. 

It's too late, this is not what it was fighting for.

It thinks to itself, why am I even here?

Rising higher, it's now a part of our atmosphere.

Dying

Starved of warmth and starved of intimacy

Indistinguishable and diminished 

Realising now it shouldn't have chased air

Should've stayed close to what it could rely 

Should've stayed close, to the tea of life.

The writer is a grade 11 student of Green Dale International School.