There is a fire inside me, burning as if it is a candle lit with a thick enough wick to last a lifetime. At times it flickers from the wrestles in life, but somehow it keeps burning. Without this candle, I would have died, a long suffering death. I tried to put it out once but the wick flares and catches fire spontaneously. I will not fan it out, instead I will feed it.
This fire flares when joy sets in and it feels like adrenaline, and it roars when I am in meditation or in relationship. It consumes me and I don't mind it. It stays in between my chest and it is inside my soul. Without this fire, I don't speak in gratitude. When the fire flames, I enjoy every moment of it, and I savor each passing time, although the world is a wave of doubt. I don't stagger nor put out of passion for life when the fire keeps burning, and when there is a time when it flickers and almost dies, I look for another flame to fire my soul alive.
Fires can die, when the glass ceiling comes close and suffocates the flame and at times, discouragement comes. Yet, I look at the neverending wick I am given and I know I am made with a special light. Untamable but not savage, passionate but not jealous, and sincere but not mild. The fire flames even when no one cares for it, because it doesn't requiere a lighter since it burns from its wick.
Might be a hassle for birthday cakes, but I only need this one flare to keep myself from the storms of life. The fire refines me and gives me a path and a plan. I never ask for its purpose, because I know I am its life. This fire will stay in me, loving me, and keeping me aligned with life's journey. Sometimes, it does become difficult, because this fire is made for more than this body and mind. I can only follow its wisdom to hope for a better tomorrow and I won't be dismayed for it is my help.
This fire burns eternally and forever more, and through it, I can write my destiny. Just write.