On Saturday evening, shortly after eightish (more dark than light here in the Northeast, but still some light) the 'phone pole' behind our house, bordering the right of way and it was pretty scary.
Our daughter, Michelle, grabbed video as I stared out the back door without my glasses in the general direction of the brightness. I still call them "phone poles" because that's what they were called where I grew up. These days, the poles support electrical cables, phone lines and cable though in our case we'd only need two as cable and phone are brought to us on fiber optic I'm told.
Fire like this fascinates me. You can see how the flame tips arcs, as the energy that caused the fire looks for more consumables to feed into itself to continue to grow. I think too often we are like fires. Our brightness, as perceived by others can only be fed by their appreciation and admiration and even more so by their jealousy and envy of our talents and abilities.
Those same talents and abilities that we work to keep in check and under control until something somewhere happens that causes us to too volubly and visibly celebrate ourselves, the "look at me!" moment after which that which brought us to prominence is consumed by our effort to stay that way.
I'm more attracted, as I've aged to those who glow rather than to us who blaze against the night sky. No matter the flame, I retreat to the wisdom of Edna St. Vincent Millay's First Fig while standing just far enough from the light to see the flame without being scorched by the heat.