The flame now alive under my skin...
I feel the slow burn in me, the faint fire in my soul...
Sometimes it burns so wild and free, yet so easily is doused and muted by the held breath, the holding back of oxygen...
Sometimes the flames are fanned from many directions, the heat rising in hypnotic joy, and then what...
The energy shifts and slows to a barely alive ember, and I become cold again...
I'm used to this cycle, the passion of heat, and the bite of frost...
The cold hibernating, my creating, slowing my spark...
And each time I fear it was my last flare of heat, that it may never burn wild again...
So I slowly look for the sticks that may stoke the fire, and gently blow the embers back to life.
6-16-21
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