This fire is out of control

 A fire is burning through the forest. We sleep on tree tops, while the world burns underneath us. It kind of feels like underfloor heating, with the added advantage that we don't have to use our feet to actually witness it. 

Down below, the jungle wildlife is in panic, yelping in the distance because anything closeby doesn't seem all that advantageous. All we do is observe from where we are, a wooden tower, shaking dimly along to the flames' dancing tune. 

A member of our group suddenly falls down into the pool of fire. There was no real scream, just a sense of bedazzlement as everyone gazed at him cursing the tree stem that he chose to sleep in.

More of our group fall down. All of are just curled up now, not noticing the rest any more. Just focussing on how bad the fire will hurt the tree that we are reliant on. It's like a game of Russian Roulette we never even knew we started. 

The noise from the wildlife has subsided. Those that didn't get away are now smelling like fresh barbecue meat, attracting flies and barbecue fetishists. There is still a huge fire on, but the tree we are sleeping on are fighting out their own survival of the fittest. 

It seems hardly fair that we should be fully dependent on that one choice we made before going to sleep. But in the end, all we can do, is accept the choice we made and feel better than those who eventually became raw toast.

Hours pass by and more and more of my group just fell down. I wonder why I am the one still alive, what I did to deserve this. But then I immediately see the stupidity of that thought. 

I am simply not in control.