Prometheus Regrets The Fire Published July 3, 2014 by rlmcdermott Fire comes on a cold winter night; it enters without knocking. What is burning here are sleeping children– Is this ash my child– the one I never held but dreamed? Because I could not love I loved too much– all things are dreams for dreamers. Share this: Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Like Loading...