These hills and valleys I traverse through, are my true companions and authors of my biography.
As the light, all things turn. Our mistakes become permanent strikes in the arid land we leave behind. Life is the blowing wind, unsettling and unyielding to our desires. With our pleas soaked in water and our frustrations used as fill for the land, we plant crops in our minds expecting a flowering of life and beauty. It comes as a harsh reality when the mind expands in to a sprout of coagulated vines and weeds that choke each other and encase the areas near it. From pity, sorrow, self hatred, confinement and denial nothing will grow. The allure of planting these seeds in the mind is so gravitational that any attempt to escape it on ones own is met with nothing more than impossibility. We cannot escape the insanity of our own power of gravity, we cannot escape the power of our intention.
So the mind darkens, so the mind buries itself between what you have planted. Your ecosystem delineated by the boundaries you set for yourself; indeed there is nothing that can exist outside of yourself if you do not allow it. Indeed you’ve choked yourself in to a corner where you are defined by what you plant.
As on earth, as in the cosmic heavens, all things must turn. Cataclysms will come to erode away the soils you’ve tiled and all things will die. You will be left barren and beaten in a hazy cloud of dust. Striving to not lose a grip of reality you will plant again, you will till your soil once again, you will feed your mind once again. And in your insanity of choice, you may relegate to your previous techniques and methods of achieving a grasp on this rough cornered reality. The human will, will fight to survive- and there will be your chance. Survival should not be your goal, you should thrive.
In your struggle to thrive fire will consume your every fiber. The burning desire to achieve happiness will set you ablaze. There is nothing that will escape this conflagration of the spirit as it exhumes the deeply rooted synaptic paths you’ve established. Your fear response will trigger and like a flood of cold vaccinating reality; adrenaline will flood you from scalp to palm. It will gather all of your strength all of your hope and desire and turn it inward. It is human to fight for normalcy, it is our predominant nature to fight for a label of what we are and as the fire consumes you a glorious light will emit from your core. Rebirth isn’t a choice, resurgence has no antonym it is itself the nature of our existence. As every last piece of you yearns and screams for a justifiable break the fire will continue to consume and destroy everything your reality.
In your last moments when you think you’ve lost it all; as the last gasps of air leave your depleted lungs you’ll close your eyes and find peace.
The end comes to all things.
With the end, a new beginning must come.
So here you stand once again, looking in to an open field as the sun wraps itself around every living thing. You have hope in your eyes again.
Child born of fire. Fighting for your life since you were young. Like the phoenix you rise and rise again. Say your prayers in an old fashioned rhyme tossing caution to the sky. Young child grown in an empire of notions he destroyed, emptying laws and conceptions of their meaning.
Wrapped his hands around many hearts. Could he be loved with all the scars from his burns? In the eyes of the jaded he sits waiting in a green glow for the love of his life. Saying not once but a thousand times “I will persevere”. Through the fire, the torrential fiery sky envelopes him in a feast that preys on insecurities covered by years of bandaging. As he dies to be reborn, in his hands still clasped a heart he sought to save.
In his deathly sleep he ponders the continuity of life and the delicate state of the balance of the world and the hearts he’s saved. In the truths he sees and he realizes that there are consequences for all for not one can deflect the blows for all. With the same fire of his birth his determination to save his love ignites in him a glory of light and passing dreams.
By fire reborn, by fire destroyed in scars the stories of the costs of becoming what he is. In his hands a heart that many find no worth in. Where some see nothing he sees home. He sees the place where his rest can begin. So as a god, as any man is a god. He understands what he must do.
How could a mortal understand the intentions of a god with a world enveloped in fire. As the fire intensifies so must determination as all burn so must one.
The child born of fire will refuse to run heart still clasped in his hands.